Tales of the Monkey King
by Deltoran Merchant
Summary: The Monkey King Sun Wukong finds himself transported by the Guardians of the Universe to the world of Magi, but without any hint as to why. With his immense power, and even greater sense of humour, he must discover the reason for his mission and defeat a threat far worse than dark magic. A threat that could spill into other worlds if left unchecked.
1. Episode 1

**Travels of the Monkey King:**

**Magi**

"Get back here you little thief!" shouted a large, muscular man in baggy pants and a vest with a quite dangerous looking scimitar in his hands as he chased after someone down the streets of Qishan.

That someone was a somewhat short, athletic boy of about fourteen wearing an orange best, tan short-pants bound at his knees, and a golden circlet on his head. His brown hair was messy and seemed to spike upwards and sweep back, though plenty of it escaped below the circlet as well. What was perhaps most notable was the long, prehensile monkey tail that extended from the base of his spine and found its way through a hole in his shorts specifically designed for it to trail behind him. He wielded a red staff with gold caps on both ends and his eyes were golden as well.

"Am I too fast for you old man?" the boy asked with a mocking, boyish voice. "You can't expect the Monkey King to go easy on some doofus who runs a stall."

The boy jumped up to the rooftops as the man pursuing him tried to close in. "I will rip your tail from your spine when I catch you boy!" the man shouted furiously.

"Better men have tried dude! But I'm the Monkey King, and it'll take more than a brainless merchant to catch me," the boy replied mockingly, strolling away with the watermelon he'd stolen held firmly under his arm.

After spinning the large green fruit on the tip of his finger like some kind of sport ball, the Monkey King tossed it into the air and smacked it with his staff, causing it to split perfectly down the middle. He caught both halves with ease, now holding his staff under his arm, and began to eat the sweet, juicy red centers of the fruit. "Man, being chased sure works up an appetite," muttered the boy as he ate. "Wonder what else there is to do on this world."

His answer came when he spotted a number of people; men, women and children, trudging through the streets with barely hidden chains on their ankles and carrying baskets of one kind or another. Behind them was a finely dressed man with a crop that he occasionally brought smacking hard into the clearly enslaved people.

The Monkey King finished off one half of the watermelon and hurled the empty green shell towards the slave master and with a little wind magic he made sure it landed right on the man's head. Then he jumped down and landed on the outside of the shell, his bare feet balancing him perfectly. "Hey ladies, gents and kids! Sun Wukong, the Monkey King here to lighten up your day."

"Get off my head you wretched little street rat!" yelled the man below him.

Wukong's perch reached up to grab him, only for him to leap off and leaving the man grasping at air as he furiously pulled the watermelon fragment off his head… just for Wukong to throw the other half into his face to a mixture of gasps and laughing from people around them. The slaves looked like they were trying particularly hard to remain glum; knowing they'd be punished if they laughed. "You know it's really weak to have to use a riding crop to get people to obey your orders," Wukong chastised, balancing on the tip of his staff as it balanced on the ground. "If you can't get people to listen to you cause they want to, then you're probably doing something wrong."

"Don't spout your hippie bullshit at me! If you think you're so great, why don't you let me show you how powerful a wealthy Qishan man is?"

"Aww, are you sayin' you want to fight?" Wukong asked in a mock baby voice. "I'm not sure you want to pick a fight with the Monkey King. Better make sure that's what you want."

"Yes well I'm Qadir, wealthiest man in Qishan and master of several martial disciplines. Your mockery won't go unpunished."

"Suit yourself," replied Wukong with a shrug, jumping down and taking his staff in hand.

What ensued could only be called a fight if one were really stretching the term, as the Monkey King landed three hard, powerful blows into Qadir with his staff before the man could even move. As a result he crumpled to the ground groaning in pain. "See, told you picking a fight with me was a bad idea."

There was some hesitation as people seemed unsure whether to help the noble or leave him, but ultimately his slaves were soon at his side along with a couple onlookers. Wukong was on the rooftops before anyone remembered him, and then he was off to look for more trouble. 'Tonight,' he thought, 'I'll help those slaves become ex-slaves. Until then I guess I'll have to find something else to do.'

A short time later saw Sun Wukong walking lazily down a back alley, hoping to find some sort of criminal to stop or a monster lurking around to beat up. What he found was a group of six children who seemed to be on the poorer end of the class system. They were just chatting and occasionally the boys rough housed while the two girls rolled their eyes. They seemed to be about ten and hadn't noticed the Monkey King on the roof nearby.

"Hey guys!" Wukong cried as he dropped down and hung by his tail from his hovering staff.

His sudden appearance caused the kids to jump in surprise, and some of them yelled or cried out. "Where the hell did you come from!?" the tallest boy asked, sounding a bit more angry than startled.

"Well when a mommy monkey and a daddy monkey love each other very much, they realize they can't have a kid and instead find a strange human-monkey hybrid in a crater nearby where he's survived impact due to being harder than stone. He also gives off some kind of energy that mutates the entire tribe into human-monkey forms and he ends up being crowned their king," explained Wukong matter of factly.

"You came from a crater?" asked a shorter boy.

"Maybe. I might tell you the whole story, but that depends on introductions."

"Aleser," the tall boy answered, with his barely tamed dirty-blond hair fitting a name meaning 'lion' perfectly.

"I'm Jamal," added the shorter boy, whose blond hair and blue eyes added to his positively adorable face.

"I'm Kalil," chirped a cheery dark haired boy whose height was somewhere between Aleser's and Jamal's. "And the quiet one over there with the perfect turban is Akil. He's kind of a bookworm."

"And the blonde girl there is Haifa, and the slightly less blonde girl is Nazirah," Jamal added.

"Nice to meet you all. I'm Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. I defend the innocent, eat bananas and kick more ass than this entire town's guard."

"Woah! You're a king?" asked Jamal in awe.

"Sure am. So do you guys wanna hear the story?"

"Why're you offering to tell us?" asked Aleser; apparently being suspicious was his strong point.

"Cause I'm bored. Okay so I crashed to earth near a tribe of monkeys as a baby, and something about me caused the whole tribe to turn into human-monkey hybrids. But none of them were as tough as me, and since I was the first of them I was made king at about your age.

"But I was really full of myself back then. Nobody could beat me, so I thought with me in charge my people would be unbeatable. So we could stop living in the forest and prove that we were the strongest in the world. And several raids on towns later we were already establishing an empire for ourselves. I had us build war machines and armour, and to dress in real clothes not rags. I studied magic and fighting and found that I was a genius with both fields, and I was quickly able to master the elements and the art of shapeshifting.

"But that wasn't enough for me. I was the most powerful mage and warrior in the world, but I wanted immortality. I'd heard of the Floating Jade Gardens, home of the Watchers of Earth led by a guy everyone called the Jade Emperor. They were guys who protected the world from evil and stuff like that, and of course my entire campaign was freakin' evil. I had so many things done in my campaign for global conquest that I'm not proud of.

"Anyways so I used my forces as a distraction and snuck into the Jade Gardens to look for the Peaches of Immortality. I found both peaches and pills, both designed to extend someone's life by about a hundred years. And I ate them all, became immortal and stopped aging. That's why I look like I'm fourteen still.

"Then I stole the rod that gave the Jade Gardens their power and turned it into my weapon and the energy in the place they stored it made me even more powerful. At this point I was convinced I was a god and destroyed the Gardens and decided to conquer the universe. So the Watchers called their boss Buu-Da, one of the members of the Guardians of the Universe, to deal with me. I thought I could take him on, but it didn't really take him long to stop me. Then he stuck me in a special cave under a mountain for me to think about what I'd done."

"Did you?" Jamal asked enthusiastically.

"I haven't killed any of you or tried to level the city, so the answer would be kinda. I was just cranky for most of it and thought I was being treated unfairly. It wasn't until I met this guy named Xuanzang after several hundred years in the cave that I started to learn about true power. We had this little adventure to retrieve something for the Guardians and that's when I learned that friendship and kindness are more powerful than raw strength. It's also when I learned how to cook a mean curry.

"So conclusion and moral of this story is, how did that phrase go… oh yeah! With great power comes great responsibility," Wukong added, "And nothing's cooler than sticking your face in a frozen lake."

"What's that mean?" asked Kalil.

"Oh yeah we're in a desert," muttered Wukong, "Well if you ever get the chance to stick your face in a frozen lake it's really cold."

"You abbreviated," Akil pointed out.

"I noticed that too," Haifa added. "You went through things too quick."

"If I told you the full version we'd be here for several hours. And I've had enough talking, so let's do something!"

"Like what?" asked Aleser.

"Capture the Flag, I've always loved that one," Wukong replied, finally dropping off his hovering staff and landing on the ground with it now in his hands. "It'll be you kids against me, but alleys aren't really great places to play it. Know anywhere better?"

"Yeah, there's another alley across the street from this one and the road is barely used," explained Nazirah. "We'll use Akil's turban for our flag."

"I'll use… um… this!" Wukong cried, pulling a tattered white dogi belt out of his pocket, that didn't seem like it could possibly fit. "It's from when I trained at a martial arts monastery when I was eleven."

"Even with all of us, are you sure it's fair to play against us?" asked Akil.

"Don't worry, I'm playing fair," the Monkey King replied, "Actually I should go do one more thing. I'll be right back."

He jumped away and shifted form into a vulture to get a good view of the area while remaining discreet. The merchant would probably still be looking for him for stealing the watermelon, and the rich guy wouldn't be willing to forgive the embarrassment, and Wukong didn't want to put the kids in danger. So he'd need a disguise, but while his shapeshifting powers regarding animals were extremely vast, his humanoid ones were much more limited. He needed a base from which to work from, and he needed a hair from the person he chose as a base. Wukong was also very picky, a fact he admitted freely.

'I need someone young and good looking enough to match my own impeccable charms,' he thought, gazing down at the streets below.

He found his target in the form of a young, athletic boy with long blue hair tied in a long ponytail and wearing a blue vest over his bare chest and baggy pants that seemed common in this area. He seemed to be sitting bored while an older boy with blond hair and fancy clothes carried barrels of some description to a carriage. Wukong circled and lightly landed on the crate beside the boy and returned to normal form with a cheery "Hey!"

The boy seemed to jump a foot in the air and cried out in fright, falling to the ground where he steadily got to his feet. "Who, wha- where did you come from!?" the boy asked, still looking quite terrified.

"I fell from the sky," Wukong answered simply. "I just was wondering if you could do me a favour."

"I dunno, I don't even know who you are, and my heart's still racing."

"I'm… Son Goku, I'm a guy with a monkey tail; there now you know who I am and what I am," Wukong explained quickly.

It wasn't a lie, his name in Japan _was_ Son Goku. He just wasn't willing to get any innocent strangers involved in what he did, so he wasn't going to tell this boy his real name. "Well Mr. Goku, what kinda favour do you want?"

"Nothing complicated; just stand still for a moment," said Wukong simply, proceeding to circle around the boy to take in every detail for his own form.

"I'm Aladdin by the way," the boy stated happily.

"So I could call you Al? Or maybe Din? Or maybe just Laddie!" cried the Monkey King, starting to get distracted. 'Stay focused Wukong,' he thought, forcing himself to stay concentrated on the task at hand.

"Heh, you're funny," Aladdin giggled, "Can I hold your staff for a minute? It looks cool."

"Sorry, but you wouldn't even be able to lift it off the ground."

"But it's just a metal rod, it can't be that heavy."

"If you really want to try, then I guess I can let you. Just hold still one more second," Wukong said, separating a single thread of blue hair from the rest on Aladdin's head and pulling it out.

"Ow! Why'd you pull my hair?" Aladdin asked.

"I'm a professional hair puller. It's better than being a professional hair pusher."

"You're silly," giggled Aladdin.

"And what's wrong with silly? Answer; nothing. Anyways thanks for your help kid."

"Wait! You said I could try and lift your staff."

"I suppose I did," Wukong replied, setting the weapon down on the ground. "Go ahead, try and pick it up."

Aladdin grabbed the staff in both hands and tried to lift it, but found it to be much heavier than it looked. Wukong was most surprised at how persistent the kid was, and only finally gave up after about five minutes of struggling to lift the thing. "How do you carry that around so easily?" the boy asked as Wukong picked the staff back up.

"Easy; I'm super strong. Anyways I have to get going, thanks for the help Al."

Wukong transformed back into his vulture form and flew back towards his new friends who eagerly awaited him. He arrived in the air above the alley and returned to normal form, dropping down and landing lightly. "Sorry I took so long guys."

"Did you just transform from a vulture?" Aleser asked with his usual suspicion.

"Sure did, and I got another transformation trick to show you."

Jamal seemed to be the most excited as Wukong gripped the hair he'd taken between his two hands. With a quick motion he tore the hair apart and it exploded into a puff of smoke that, when it faded, left Wukong looking identical to Aladdin except in smaller versions of his own clothes and much shorter hair. A second later his eyes also shifted in colour to gold, intended to help identify him. "What do you think?" he asked.

"That was so cool," Jamal cried, completely in awe of Wukong's abilities.

"Alright let's play then!"

And that was the rest of the afternoon for the Monkey King. Capture the flag turned into tag, and then hide and seek. But the fun came to an end eventually as the sun began to set and the kids had to go home. All the kids except Jamal. "Why're you still here?" Wukong asked, changing back to his normal form. "Am I that charming and fascinating?"

"Well you are, but…"

"You don't have a home do you?" the Monkey King asked knowingly.

Jamal shook his head sadly. "My mom died of illness when I was little and my dad left us before that. Aleser and Akil's families usually take care of me, but I don't like to intrude now that I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"You're ten."

"And I'm old enough to take care of myself," retorted Jamal with some defiance. "I want to go on adventures with you."

"Who said I was going on adventures?" Wukong asked. "Maybe I'm just here to steal watermelons and free slaves. Speaking of which, I have an appointment to get to. Stay here and we'll pick this up later."

He jumped into the air and landed on a small, dense cloud that formed beneath his feet and rode it away while Jamal looked on in awe.

The Monkey King arrived at the home of Qadir and hopped off his riding cloud onto its roof. It was definitely a big house for a desert city, but Wukong had seen bigger. He slipped in through one of the windows and made his way through the halls, searching for the slave's quarters. The halls were patrolled by a couple scimitar-wielding guards. They seemed on alert too, so Wukong guessed that Qadir had expected him. They were easy for him to take out though; just a strike to the back of the head and they crumpled into unconsciousness.

Wukong finally found the slave's quarters in the basement, or cellar perhaps. From what he saw of the place it looked like a stable would be a step up. It was filthy, smelly and stuffy, though at the very least was free of toilet waste. Though that didn't really help much. "Hey guys!" he whispered, seeing the slaves, apparently two families of four, slouched in a corner attempting to sleep.

They were startled by his sudden appearance and even more so when he shattered their chains with his bare hands. "There you go guys, free as a bunch of birds."

"Not yet," one of the men stated simply, "We have to get out of this house and out of the city."

"I got that covered. All the guards are sleeping on the job and I saw a camel caravan outside the city on my way here with a couple escaped slaves hanging around. If we hurry you'll be able to catch them."

"Not so fast!" shouted Qadir, leading Wukong to spin around.

The Monkey King wasn't sure what surprised him most; that Qadir was holding Jamal hostage or that he was aiming some kind of gun at his head. "What the hell are you doing here kid!?" Wukong shouted angrily.

"I wanted to help," the kid replied meekly.

"And you did. You helped me," Qadir replied. "I was just paid good money to send those slaves far away. You're not taking them anywhere."

"Well that would work if that gun weren't made of metal," said Wukong, "I control all the elements of my homeland."

He tried to make the gun bend, or twist, or do something. Instead he was surprised to find that his magic felt like it was bouncing off the weapon, to which Qadir laughed. "Nice try monkey, but my buyers gave me this lovely little weapon as a bonus. It fires some kind of lethal light beam and most importantly is magic proof. Now drop your staff and stand down, or I'll fry your little friends head."

Wukong narrowed his eyes angrily, but threw his staff to the ground. He wasn't beaten though, not by a longshot. Pretending to scratch his head he pulled a single hair out and set it flying on a tiny current of air over Qadir's shoulder. As the man backed up with the gun pointed at his hostage he felt a sharp point jab into his back and looked over his shoulder to see the sword wielding transparent clone of Wukong that the hair had become. The next minute he was stabbed in the gut by the clone's sword, forcing him to drop Jamal and the gun as he doubled over. "Grab the weapon," Wukong ordered Jamal, picking up his staff and rallying the slaves to move.

"What was that thing? Did it kill him?" Jamal asked as they ran through the house.

"Air clone formed from my hair, and no, they only cause pain," Wukong replied quickly, grabbing Jamal and two of the slave kids before jumping out the nearest window.

After a couple trips to gather everyone, the Monkey King summoned his riding cloud while a bell went off in the Qadir house as some kind of alarm. On the cloud they soared over the city at speeds that none of the humans could believe, leaving the house far behind and mere minutes later landing outside its walls near the caravan. "Wait!" Wukong called out, seeing that they were beginning to leave. "I've got eight more escaped slaves for you."

"Eight!?" cried the caravan leader in surprise. "Wait, how do you know-"

"Because I do," interrupted Wukong. "We were discovered escaping, so we don't have time to argue."

"You were what!? The entire town's guard will be on us by morning."

"Then get going! Here," Wukong added, grabbing an empty satchel from one of the camals and pouring some sand into it which he then blew into. "Take this. If you become in need of extra cover then open this satchel and throw it. Believe me, it will help."

"Why should we trust you?" the caravan leader asked, taking the satchel.

"This is why."

The Monkey King planted his staff into the sand and a violent dust storm began to whip up around him. Then he waved his staff in front of him and sent the storm flying towards the city, but not entering it. Instead it blew around the exits, confounding any attempts to leave. Furthermore its creation had wiped away their footprints. "Now get out of here!"

The caravan leader nodded in assent and bid the ex-slaves to hop onto the caravan wagon. And with that they started moving, not going anywhere near as fast as Wukong's cloud, but fast enough that they were soon in the distance. Wukong took this opportunity to erase their footprints in the sand once again, thereby making it difficult for the guards to track them. "Now I have to go with you," Jamal pointed out. "I'm a fugitive now. They know I helped those slaves escape."

"Yeah I was just thinking about that," the Monkey King replied, "I'll just take you somewhere far away where you won't be found. I heard someone mention a place called Balbadd. It's far away, but with my cloud we should cover the distance in a few hours."

"Don't do that!" Jamal protested. "I got that metal thing for you remember? It's right here."

The boy handed the gun to Wukong proudly, and the Monkey King took it and stuffed it into a satchel at his waist that looked far too small to hold it, but somehow did so without any sign it was there. "What is it anyways?" Jamal asked.

"It's a gun. A very powerful, very deadly weapon. But from everything I've learned of this world in my forty eight hours here, guns haven't yet been developed. Yet somehow cod face got his hands on one."

"Do you think this will help?" Jamal asked, handing Wukong a sealed scroll. "I stole it from the guy when he grabbed me."

The Monkey King unfurled the paper to see it was a bill of sale. "Qadir Popo, hah! I love his last name," Wukong chuckled. "We thank you for your sale to us these fine 'workmen' and henceforth reward your business with us via five thousand gold pieces and one maverick directed energy pistol. Your service to the Iron Empire will be remembered. Signed Ambassador Yu, Secret Service," he read. "Iron Empire hm?"

"Never heard of it," replied Jamal. "Shouldn't we get out of here before anyone manages to push through your dust storm?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Come on kid," Wukong said, summoning his cloud and pulling Jamal onto it. "Let's fly!"


	2. Episode 2

**Chapter 2**

"Fortress of Kut," read Sun Wukong, gazing at the sign in front of an ancient looking fortress.

He and Jamal had been flying for some time now, and they'd decided to land somewhere and get some sleep. The first place they found was this old, crumbling fortress with the sea visible nearby. It wasn't a dignified place to sleep, and the amount of dust that had accumulated inside left it looking even more derelict, but it was functional and more than a safe distance from Qishan.

Wukong could've flown for much longer still, but Jamal was very sleepy and almost fell off the cloud at one point. So instead the Monkey King landed and set up a crude camp in the fortress' dark, dusty entrance room. This consisted of some blankets pulled from his seemingly bottomless satchel and a single stick that balanced perfectly and on which Wukong lit a fire with a mere wave of his hand. "So Jamal," began Wukong, "What's the deal with that big tower in Qishan? That where the emperor or sultan or whatever lives?"

"No. That's a dungeon. They're giant towers that hold magnificent riches at the top. You have to pass through difficult, taxing trials and traps to get to the top. Few people ever manage it, and nobody's managed to get to the top of the Qishan one. Hey! I bet you could go through it easily!"

"I don't need riches," replied Wukong casually, "And there's no way I'm going back to that city. Not only does everyone want my head there now, but it seriously cramps my style."

"Cramps your style?"

"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed; I'm a monkey. Who's ever heard of a monkey in a desert? Besides, I'm more interested in this Iron Empire."

"I've never heard of them. That weapon, that gun, how lethal is it?"

Wukong pulled the weapon out of his satchel and turned it over in his hands briefly. It was burnished steel and had a look like something from a 1930's comic book. "In my world-"

"Your world?" Jamal asked with confusion.

"I'm not from this universe. I'm from Earth, but Earth from an alternate universe to yours."

"I don't know if I understand."

"That's fine, I barely get it myself. Just think of it as a different version of this planet."

"Okay," replied Jamal, sounding like he could make that work. "So in your world…"

"Right, in my world all the nations went to war twice. In those wars they used guns, and in those wars, which only lasted half a decade, more people were killed than in any previous wars."

"That's horrible."

"Here's an even more horrible thought; this weapon shows that there's a nation somewhere in this world with that kind of technology. The technology to kill from a distance with half the effort and twice the power of a bow. None of you guys could ever be prepared for something like that."

"We have magicians!" countered Jamal, "I've heard of a place called Magostadt that I think is somewhere nearby. They'd stop them."

"Um, hello? I'm a freakin' demigod and my power had no effect on this thing. Obviously someone's been planning for magic."

"Can you demonstrate that weapon? You know, like on a wall or something?"

"I guess that'd be harmless, relatively speaking," muttered Wukong, aiming the gun at the opposite wall.

With a pull of the trigger a high pitched whine blared out for a second as a bolt of red energy shot out from the gun and burned a hole in the wall, surprising even the Monkey King. "They weren't kidding about projected energy weapons," he said in surprise. "But see the smoking hole seared straight through the wall? Imagine that was your head, or your heart, or any part of your body."

"That would've killed me instantly," gasped Jamal.

"Yeah I wasn't expecting energy, only really advanced guns fire that. Usually they're bits of metal."

He put the weapon back in his satchel and perched on the tip of his staff, now balancing perfectly again. "So presumably we'll be up against lots of people with those. Are you sure you don't want me to fly you to Balbadd?"

"I'm… sure," replied Jamal after a long pause.

"And I hope you're not thinking of being seen as a hero or anything. I think all these countries and empires will be too concerned with their own affairs to notice that we're saving their asses from being stomped on."

"I just want to go on an adventure."

"Good. Then get some sleep. I'll stand guard."

"Don't you need to sleep?" Jamal asked after yawning.

Wukong shook his head. "I'm the Monkey King, I don't need sleep! But you do, so go on."

The Monkey King waited until his new friend had fallen asleep before exiting the fortress and jumping up to the top of its walls. "I wonder what that Aladdin kid is up to," he mused as he gazed up at the moon. "I'm getting too old for being 'on' all the time," he added, then burst out laughing. "Nope, can't say that with a straight face. Time for some cloud surfing!"

And that was how he spent the rest of his night; riding his cloud through the natural ones in the sky, though sadly in the desert that didn't account for much. While he was doing this, though, he made another discovery about this world he found himself in; bizarre white elementals in the shapes of birds. Occasionally he would see them flutter by, acting somewhat more like butterflies than birds. And despite his interest, and the fact he could feel magic radiating from them, they seemed intent on avoiding him. "Aw come ooooon," he whined, chasing after them. "Are you scared because I'm from a different universe? Just give me a chance, I don't bite."

Wukong held out his hand diplomatically towards the elemental birds and they fluttered around in some sort of decision making process before one of them flew towards his hand and finally alighted on his finger. It was warm, and felt like happiness and love and all the good emotions, and yet some of the bad, but in a controlled way. "Elemental life force," the Monkey King surmised in awe after a few moments studying it. "Pure life energy in the form of elemental birds. Naturally forming as well! This world is so weird, and so amazing at the same time."

He stroked the bizarre bird's head briefly before setting it back flying, after which the small flock swirled around him briefly before taking off into the skies and vanishing from even his sight. "I'd love a map of this place. The whole world is like the 1500s done differently. Uh oh," Wukong added as he spotted a group of people below, riding on horseback.

His worries were directed at the fact they seemed to be rough and somewhat unkempt, that some of them had swords drawn, and others carried satchels of gold and one a brunette girl bound and gagged. Even worse they were heading straight towards Kut, which could put Jamal in danger. "Excuse me," he said, riding his cloud beside the horsemen and causing them to cry out in surprise.

"Where did you come from? Who are you!?"

"Just a guy with a monkey tail riding by on my magic cloud, and I couldn't help but notice you're treating that pretty lady fairly poorly. Are you bandits by any chance?"

"Yeah we're bandits! What's it to you!?" their leader, a fairly short, but very vicious looking man asked.

"I see, and you wouldn't happen to be heading towards the fortress by the sea would you?"

"How do you know about that!?" the Bandit Chief pressed suspiciously.

"It's a crumbling old fortress in the middle of nowhere. It's not hard to miss. So am I to take it that you're going there?"

"Yeah, we are," one of the other bandits called out.

"Ah, well in that case; stop!" Wukong shouted, and to the bandits' surprise their horses came to a halt and refused to keep moving no matter how much they tried to make them do so.

"What did you do!? Who are you?" the Bandit Chief asked angrily.

"I speak horse," the Monkey King explained simply. "Now I think it would be in your best interests to forget about Kut and instead turn around and return any stolen goods and bring that poor woman back to her home."

The bandits burst out laughing. "Did you hear that Gazeem?" one of them asked their leader, who seemed to be close to falling off his horse because he was laughing so hard.

"No I'm serious. Turn around and make some changes for the better," Wukong stated calmly.

"Why should we?" asked Gazeem, still abounding amused.

"Well it's nice, and the right thing to do. Also those white elemental birds don't seem pleased with what you're currently up to."

"What birds?" one of the bandits asked with confusion.

"Ohhh, I see," murmured Sun Wukong, realizing the elementals couldn't be seen without training. "Well then just turn around and do the right thing and I guarantee you'll feel better for it."

He began to rise up into the sky once again and called back to them one last time saying "I hope I don't see you at Kut!"

Sun Wukong sat on the walls of the fortress for the rest of the night and keeping an eye on the horizon. As the sun began to rise he spotted the bandits far off, still riding for Kut. From what he could see they also still had the woman held prisoner and the gold hefted over their shoulders. "What's going on?" asked Jamal as he arrived on the wall rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"We've got some visitors, of the bandit variety," Wukong explained simply. "I found 'em last night while cloud riding and told them to turn around and return what they took."

"You just asked them and expected them to do it?" asked Jamal with disbelief.

"One thing my old friend Xuanzang taught me is to always give people a chance to better themselves. Without threat, without force, just tell them an alternative and ask that they take it. If you threaten them, then it won't be genuine. If you force them then it won't be genuine. You just ask that they take it, for their own good."

"I think your friend was a bit naïve."

"He could be, but I respect his lessons and his memory enough to always remember what he told me. Without him I'd still be in that cave."

"Well anyways they're on horses, what do you think took them so long to get here?"

"There's two less of them than there was last night," answered Wukong grimly. "Guess my words didn't entirely fall on deaf ears. Just dead ones."

"So two of them thought going straight would be a good idea, but got killed for it," surmised Jamal. "What're you gonna do to them?"

"I'm gonna beat them up, free the woman they have captive, return the stolen goods and turn them in," explained Wukong simply, getting to his feet as the bandits came within range of the fortress walls. "So you decided to ignore my advice!" he called down "And yet you seem to be short two members."

"Spineless traitors who thought we should go straight! They paid the price and the carrion eaters will feast on them, as they will on you if you think to interfere with us!" shouted Gazeem.

"I offer you one last chance; change your ways and atone for your crimes! Return the stolen goods, release the girl, and turn yourselves in."

"I don't know what kind of preacher or idiot you are, but I'd rather be rich than a wimp."

"Alright, but remember that you made this choice."

The Monkey King jumped from his perch on the wall towards the group with such speed that Gazeem and his henchmen had no time to draw their swords. But Wukong didn't bother attacking them. Instead he bounced off Gazeem's head and several of the other bandits before arriving at the horse holding the hostage girl. Standing on the head of the man assigned to watch her, and wrenching the sword from the man as he raised it and hurling it into the distance, Wukong reached down and grabbed the girl before proceeding to vault back to the fortress walls. "Take care of her," he told Jamal, "Do you have a knife?"

"No, but I'm good with knots."

"Good enough. I'll see you again in a moment," said Wukong, returning to the ground.

"You stole our toy!" Gazeem shouted, even more enraged.

"Living things are not property," Wukong replied shortly.

"Kill him! Kill the little f-" the chief ordered, only to be cut short by the Monkey King bringing the end of his staff smashing into his jaw.

Gazeem toppled off his horse, and instantly the rest of the bandits were on their opponent, who flipped and jumped and brought his staff to bear on all of them in a dazzling mixture of acrobatics and fighting skills that ended with all the bandits lying on the ground while Wukong stood on the back of one of the horses and undid its saddle and satchels, before proceeding to the next one.

"There you go guys," he said as he freed the last of the horses from their loads. "Get to a village, find some nice people, and make your way to better living than with a bunch of thieves and criminals."

The horses snorted in assent and galloped off into the desert, heading back the way they'd come and, free of their luggage, moved much faster until they were out of sight. "So," Wukong began, looking around at the bandits, "You should've taken my advice. Now you get to share a jail cell _and_ be in immense pain for several months until your wounds heal."

"Y-you bastard," mumbled Gazeem through his broken jaw.

"Believe it or not I've let you off lightly," Wukong continued as he pulled some chains and handcuffs from his satchel and began to clap them around the bandit's wrists, using his metal magic to extend them when necessary. "I control water, fire, air, wood and metal as well as pure magic. Not to mention if you felt how heavy my staff is you'd realize that I could've done much worse. But Xuanzang taught me never to kill unless it was necessary, so you were never in any lethal danger."

When at last all the bandits were chained up Wukong returned to the fortress walls to greet the girl who Jamal had finished unbinding by this point. She instantly bowed down to him in thanks. "Thank you so much for rescuing me from those… those…" she stuttered.

"Those jerks? Yeah don't mention it. I'm Sun Wukong by the way, I'm a thousand years old, I look like I'm fourteen, and I've got a monkey tail," he introduced, bowing politely.

"And I'm his traveling companion Jamal! I'm a ten year old homeless kid from Qishan."

"Nice to meet you both. My name is Nada, I'm the seventeen year old daughter of a wealthy merchant lord from Balbadd."

"Really? That's quite a ways from here," Jamal pointed out.

"They kidnapped me about a week ago. I shudder to think what they would've done to me. They already tried, but their leader urged them to wait."

"Well they're all wrapped up now. Speaking of which we should probably get you home."

"How? You sent the horses off and it'll take weeks for us to get back there on foot," Nada said.

"Oh you haven't seen half of what this guy can do," Jamal gushed.

"To be fair Jamal, neither have you," Wukong interjected, "But yeah, we're not going on foot. We're flying!"

"What? How? Are you a Dungeon Capturer?" Nada asked with some excitement.

"Better than that; I'm a demigod," Wukong replied, summoning his cloud and jumping on.

"But that's a cloud," murmured Nada in surprise.

"It's a _riding_ cloud," Wukong corrected as Jamal jumped on as well.

"That's… kind of neat," Nada replied, climbing on as well. "It feels so light and fluffy, but really sturdy as well," she said as she jumped up and down on it.

"And fast. We'll be in Balbadd shortly after noon. I just have to pick up some cargo."

As Wukong said this he lowered the cloud down to the bandits and satchels of stolen goods and loaded the latter onto the cloud and hefted the far end of the chain over his shoulder with ease. "Now then, let's be off. To Balbadd!" cried Wukong, bringing his cloud up into the sky, before stopping and looking back to his companions and asking sheepishly "Which way is Balbadd?"

They both pointed directly north-west and Wukong set his course appropriately and they were off, speeding through the sky at a speed without match. Jamal and Nada could do nothing but marvel at their speed and find amusement in the bandits sailing along below looking scared out of their minds.

After only an hour the desert had begun to give way to tropical rainforest, something Wukong was thrilled to see. "Yes! Trees!" he shouted the moment he spotted them.

"You like trees because you're a monkey right?" asked Nada.

"Ding, ding! That's correct Nada, you win ten points and get to choose the next question from the board!" Wukong replied in a game show host voice that went completely over the heads of his medieval era companions and elicited blank and confused stares. 'Worlds before the invention of television are so humourless,' he thought indignantly.

However Wukong had to resist his desire to swing through the jungle and instead sped over the trees quicker than before. Soon he was able to smell the sea and shortly after that could see a massive city sprawling out below. Architecturally it resembled Qishan, a style that Wukong himself had seen in his own world many centuries ago. "An Arabian city, at the height of its power and wealth," he mused to his companions, "Unfettered by internal chaos and warfare and focused on extending its prosperity. The likes of this haven't been seen in my world for centuries."

"Your world?" Nada asked.

"He's from a different universe, something like Earth that's not the same as the Earth we live on," Jamal tried to explain.

"Don't hurt your heads over it kids," Wukong replied as they flew out over the city and descended towards an open square.

The arrival of three people on a cloud with a dozen bandits dangling below was more than enough to draw the attention of pretty much everyone in the city. By the time Wukong had landed there was already a crowd gathered. He hopped off his cloud and stood beside the shackled bandits who were mostly out cold. "Can someone go grab a guard or something!?" Wukong called out, "I have a gang of bandits here I want to be rid of. They're led by a guy named Gazeem."

"Gazeem? You… you three didn't defeat them did you?" asked someone from the crowd.

"Of course they didn't. I did, because I'm awesome. But Jamal helped Miss Nada here get untangled."

"Nada? Did I hear someone say Nada?" asked the voice of a middle-aged man.

Through the crowd pushed a tall man with greying brown hair, and blue eyes that matched Nada's almost perfectly. He seemed like he had been strong in his youth, but now leaned on a cane. "Father!" cried Nada, dashing over to the man and embracing him tightly, a gesture he returned with great eagerness. "I was so worried I would never see you again!"

"There, there Nada. You're home and safe, and that's all that matters," her father replied, comforting his crying daughter. "Young man," he added, addressing Sun Wukong. "Did you really rescue my daughter from those awful bandits?"

"Heh, young," Wukong muttered to Jamal, who grinned with amusement. "Yeah I got her away from them, but Jamal untied her while I took the jerks out."

"Well, well, well if it isn't Gazeem and his gang of assholes," said a large, fairly well-dressed man arriving on the scene with a badge and shiny sword that clearly indicated he was the guard captain. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of seeing you and your gang rot in prison. And I understand you're the kid who managed to take them all out?" the man said, addressing Wukong.

"That'd be me, the best of the best," Wukong replied. "Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, pleasure to meet you guard captain dude."

"Sun Wukong hm? Well I'm Captain of the Balbadd Guard; but you can call me Razoul. We could use a strong warrior like you on the force, and with this 'Fog Troupe' that's been appearing lately we could sure use help like yours."

"No thanks, I work alone. Oh and those bags hold everything the bandits stole. Make sure it gets back to the right people."

"You have my word I will," replied Razoul, setting a few men to carry the heavy bags while he pushed the bandits into motion.

With the bandits gone the crowd began to disperse, though a large number of them, mostly children, turned their attention to the Monkey King and began asking him a hundred questions at once. To his annoyance one of the kids even pulled on his tail, an action that Wukong scolded the kid heavily for. Shortly afterwards Nada's father asked them to give him some space, and they agreed. "Thanks for the assist," Wukong replied as the children strolled away.

"Don't worry, I've gotten to know many of the children in this city quite well for one reason or another. They don't mean any harm. It occurs to me that in all the fuss proper formal introductions were lost. I am Aalif, owner and lord of the South Sea Trading Company."

"I'm Sun Wukong, the Monkey King and this kid is Jamal, he's a street boy from Qishan."

"Pleasure to meet you both. Do you intend to stay long in Balbadd?"

"Uh… yeah, I think we could linger for a couple days," Wukong answered.

"Then please, let me put you up for the course of your stay. It's the least I can do to thank you," Aalif beseeched.

"I get to stay in the house of a rich merchant?" asked Jamal hopefully. "Please say yes Wukong, please say yes."

"Yeah, sure," answered Wukong at last.

"Oh excellent! Come, this way, please follow me," Aalif said eagerly, and off they marched, following the merchant as he led the way to him home.

Several hours later saw Gazeem sitting in his own individual cell in the dungeons inside the guard barracks, awaiting transferral to a more permanent prison. "The great Gazeem, bested by a child with a tail. It's obscene," the bandit chief brooded. "How did such a young kid get so strong and fast anyways? No normal child is that powerful."

"The simple answer is he's not normal," came a quiet, yet commanding voice from the entrance to the prison.

A man, fully draped in white desert robes strode down the hallway and stopped in front of the bandit's cell. Though most of his features were concealed, he was clearly tall and quite strong looking, but bizarrely one of his eyes, or what little could be seen of it, seemed to be covered by some kind of red monocle. "What do you mean he's not normal? Does having a monkey tail really make someone superhuman!?"

"Not at all, but being an intensely magical creature whom the elementals treat as one of their own does."

"There's that elemental crap again. What the hell are you talking about!? Who are you?"

"The complexities of this world's Life-Force is something that I doubt your tiny, uneducated brain could grasp. As for who I am, you may call me the Agent. And I have a proposal for you."

"What kind of proposal?"

"You would like to get out of this prison, and to get revenge on the monkey would you not?"

"Damn friggin right I would!" retorted Gazeem angrily.

"But as you are now you would be no match for him. The people I represent, however, can… change you. We can make you stronger, faster, and most importantly immune to magic. In return we ask only that you pledge your allegiance to our cause."

"What cause? Who are your people?"

"We… are the future rulers of this world. Pledge your loyalty to us, the Iron Empire, and we will make you into a powerful engine of war. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Gazeem thought about it for a moment, before at last he grinned and replied "We have a deal."


	3. Episode 3

**Episode 3**

"So…" began Sun Wukong as he floated in the spacious 'living room' area of Aalif's manor. "Now that I've eaten and everything, which was great by the way, I have a question for you."

"I will answer any question I can," Aalif replied, reclining on what Wukong would call a sofa, a very large and plush sofa, but a sofa nonetheless. Nada and Jamal were content with chairs.

"You're a merchant guy and everything, have you ever heard of something called the 'Iron Empire'?"

Aalif's blank stare seconds before answering was enough of an answer for Wukong, but he let him speak. "No, I can say that I have. But this is a seaside city and people pour through here from all over the world. My advice would be to keep asking around town and see if you find anything."

"That shouldn't be too hard," replied Wukong with a shrug.

"This is really hard," Wukong whined, slouching over with his staff across his shoulders as he and Jamal walked through the city streets of Balbadd.

"Yeah, we've been here six months and asked around the docks and inns every day," Jamal surmised. "But what else can we do? We don't have a single lead!"

"On the bright side we've gotten to meet loads of new people," Wukong added cheerily. "Hey there Miss Ghina," he said brightly to an elderly woman working a fruit stand.

"Good morning Wukong," she replied cheerily, "Another day of this investigation of yours?"

"Pretty much. I hate to be in a stereotype mood, but you wouldn't happen to have any bananas would you?"

"Not for free I'm afraid."

"I always pay if I need to."

"Didn't you steal a watermelon the same day you met me?" Jamal asked pointedly.

"Well… I was hungry and it was my second day here," defend Wukong sheepishly. "Let me check my bag, I'm sure I have some money somewhere."

"Did you hear about the Fog Troupe?" asked Ghina as Wukong searched. "They made another raid last night, somewhere near Aalif's manor in fact. Isn't that where you two have been staying?"

"Yeah. He still doesn't seem to think he's paid back his debt to Wukong here," Jamal said. "But it's a great house, and Aalif's a great man! He donates to the poor of Balbadd and pays to free slaves when he can."

"Which means the Fog Troupe won't touch him," Sun Wukong interjected, flicking a couple coins towards Ghina, who caught them with skill grown from great practice. "They're regular Robin Hoods."

"That's the guy from that story from your world right? He robs from the rich and gives to the poor."

"Yup," replied Wukong, peeling his banana, "Aalif already gives to the poor, so he's safe."

They said goodbye to Ghina and continued on through the streets while Wukong ate his morning snack. Jamal found himself constantly surprised with how much energy his friend could muster up. He was like a bottomless well of energy. Even late into the night when there was no point to still asking around, and Jamal was ready to go back to Aalif's and sleep, Wukong would keep going. The Monkey King only seemed to eat for the sake of the taste, because it didn't seem to make much change in his energy. "You know I heard King Sinbad of Sindria has been visiting the city recently," Jamal said at length. "He was my number one hero until I met you."

"Maybe he knows something about the Iron Empire," Wukong mused, "He's a sailor and explorer right? It'd be worth a shot."

"You can't be serious. We don't even know where he's staying!"

"We check high class hotels obviously," replied Wukong, incinerating the remaining banana peel with some kind of fire spell. "That Berber guy who works as a guard, Raza, he's been to Sindria. He might have a clue which hotel to check."

"Berber? Raza's a Fanalis."

"Same thing, different world."

"That was so cool when you sparred with him. Fanalis are like, the strongest fighters in the world. They say their kicks are like lightning, and you just stopped it like it was nothing."

"What can I say? I'm awesome. Though he wasn't too shabby himself."

"And you've been making the local guards look bad just by stopping every robbery before they can even get there."

"Also stopped a couple more serious crimes as well," Wukong added, "But I refuse to get involved in this Fog Troupe business. When it comes down to it they're helping people, and Xuanzang always put helping others above all else."

"I wish I'd met this Xuanzang guy, he sounds really nice," said Jamal. "You always talk about him, but what exactly happened to him?"

"He died," replied Wukong simply.

"How?"

"Old age. He was in his eighties by then, was Grand Master of the Order of the White Lotus; devoted to training young warriors in the ways of fighting and diplomacy. But he wasn't immortal like me, and he passed away in his sleep. Real peaceful, in his home, surrounded by his family and friends and students… I stopped going back to China after he passed. Nothing there for me anymore."

"What about your family? You must have descendants."

"Well would you look at that!" Wukong said as he spotted a familiar braided ponytail ahead of him some ways.

The ponytail belonged to a boy, and although he now had a strange staff strapped to his back, Wukong recognized the boy as Aladdin, the same one he'd used as a disguise the day he met Jamal. He was walking with some red-haired girl who looked remarkably similar to Raza, leading Sun Wukong to guess that she was a Fanalis as well. "That's the kid I took a hair from for my disguise," Wukong said. "Stay here, I'm gonna go surprise him."

Wukong jumped up to the rooftops, or the edges of them anyways, and moved along them quickly until he was ahead of the two. When he felt he was in position he jumped into the air and summoned his cloud, hanging over the edge of it upside down and descending quickly right in front of the boy and the girl. "Hey Aladdin!" he cried out cheerily as he appeared abruptly in front of him.

The reaction couldn't have been more perfect. Both of them cried out in surprise and the girl aimed a kick right at him, which he moved his head out of the way of. Then seconds later Aladdin blew a flute hanging around his neck and two massive blue arms emerged from it and attempted to smush him between their hands. Instead Wukong held out his staff and the hands stopped at it and struggled against it. "Stop trying to squish me genie, or I'll turn you into an incense burner like I did with the last genie who got on my bad side," Wukong threatened.

The arms retracted briskly into the flute and Wukong had to take another moment to grab the girl's foot as she tried to kick him again. "Calm down Berber girl," he urged casually. "Hey there Aladdin, long time no see!"

"Do I know you?" Aladdin asked with confusion.

"Aww, how could you forget someone like me?" Wukong asked with joking indignation. "Seriously though Berber girl, I'm not letting your foot go unless you promise to stop trying to kick me."

"What are you? Why do you keep calling me 'Berber girl'?" the girl asked with a mixture of suspicion and anger.

"Because you're a Berber right? One of those people from the 'Dark Continent'."

"You mean Fanalis?" Aladdin asked helpfully.

"Fanalis, Berber, same thing," Wukong replied with a shrug. "Now do you promise to stop trying to kick me Red?"

The girl gave him a stubborn glare for a good minute and a half before finally sighing and saying "I promise."

Wukong let her foot go, and dropped off his cloud, which dissipated. "Maybe this will jog your memory Aladdin," Wukong said, holding out his tail. "See? Monkey tail. Remember me now?"

"Not real… oh wait!" cried Aladdin with realization, "You're the weird and funny monkey boy who took one of my hairs as a favour. Um… Goku wasn't it?"

"We're out of Qishan, so let's dispense with the aliases. My real name is Sun Wukong, Son Goku is what it becomes when translated into the language of a country near where I'm from."

"You did the same trick to say hi last time we met didn't you?" Aladdin asked, trying to think back.

"Yup, that's me!"

"And you blocked Morgiana's kick and Ugo's hands."

"Oh wait! You guys have to meet my friend as well," Wukong added cheerily, whistling loudly.

And nothing happened, causing Wukong to furrow his brow in frustration. He jumped back towards where he'd left Jamal, grabbed him, and jumped back to Aladdin. "You know you could've just called for me," the boy protested indignantly.

"That's not as fun," defended Wukong. "Anyways; Jamal this is Aladdin and Angry Berber Girl. Aladdin and Angry Berber Girl, this is Jamal."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Jamal said with a quick bow, "He means Fanalis when he says Berber. For some reason he's incapable of remembering the proper term for your people."

"My name is Morgiana," the red-haired girl said in response.

"Or Morj for short," interjected Aladdin.

"Hm… those elemental birds really like you don't they Aladdin," Wukong said abruptly.

"Elemental birds?"

"You can see rukh!?" asked Jamal with surprise.

"Come on Jamal, I can take out a dozen bandits by myself and surround a city in a sandstorm. Does it really surprise you?"

"Good point."

"They seem confused by you," Aladdin noted, "The rukh I mean. I see them fly by you and stop… it's like they don't know what you are."

"Don't worry your cute little head about it Laddie," replied Wukong, "It's a bit too much to explain here and now. As for your genie and stopping Morj's kicks, well, let's just say I'm very powerful. Remember my staff?"

"Speaking of my head, was my hair helpful to you at all?"

"It was actually, thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, Morj and I were just looking for something to do until nightfall, would you like to catch up at all?" Aladdin asked.

"Sure! That sounds fun!" replied Wukong enthusiastically. 'And it'll keep Jamal from asking questions about me,' he thought.

A couple tales of adventures later found both parties mostly caught up with one another. Wukong was amused to find that Aladdin had ended up in Mongolia, or this world's equivalent of Mongolia, and that the big tower in Qishan was gone. He also got some updates on who the blond guy who Aladdin had been with before was; Alibaba.

In typical fashion for Wukong he spent their conversation balancing perfectly on the end of his staff, and eventually on Aladdin's staff as well at his suggestion. "And tonight we're going to help investigate the Fog Troupe," Aladdin added after both their stories had concluded. "You wanna help?" he asked hopefully.

"Depends on what you mean by 'investigate'," Wukong said in answer, jumping down from the stacked staves and tossing Aladdin's back to him. "Do you mean you're going to find out more about them or do you mean you're going to fight and capture them?"

"We're gonna catch them," replied Aladdin. "You'd make it easy."

"Then no, I'm not getting involved."

"Why not?"

"The Fog Troupe helps people," Wukong replied, "Whatever their reasons, they help people in need. They steal, but they do so to help others. So here's the question I want you to ponder tonight; how does the weight of their crimes balance against their good deeds?"

"And while we're asking questions; do either of you know anything about the Iron Empire we mentioned?" Jamal interjected.

Both the magi, as Wukong had learned Aladdin was, and Fanalis girl shook their heads with blank faces. Both Wukong and Jamal sighed in exasperation and disappointment. "Fine… well we need to get going then. We're trying to find where Sinbad's staying," Wukong explained.

"Sinbad? You mean Sinbad of Sindria?" asked Aladdin curiously.

"Yeah! Do you know where he is?" Jamal asked, jumping to his feet.

"He's staying at the Balbadd Royale, he's put us up there as well."

"Balbadd Royale!" Wukong and Jamal cried together joyously.

"Let's go Jamal!" cried Wukong, summoning his cloud and pulling his friend on.

"Wait! What about us!?" called Aladdin.

"Sorry Al, but business comes first."

Wukong and Jamal took to the sky and moments later descended back towards a very big and very fancy building that both had seen many times before, but it was one among several and would have been too much to search all of them for one man. "We don't know what room he's staying in though," Jamal noted as they hopped off the riding cloud in front of the hotel.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find it. He's the only king staying here I imagine, and he's staying with two children; one a mage and one a Berber girl."

"A magi and a Fana- oh forget it," sighed Jamal. "And you think they're just going to tell us where their customers are staying."

"I'm good at convincing people."

They entered the hotel's lobby and strode right up to the front desk. "Can I help you?" the man behind the desk asked haughtily.

"You sure can. Can you tell us which room King Sinbad is staying in?"

"No," the man replied simply. "Why would I tell a pair of vagabonds which suite the King of Sindria is staying it?"

"Do you not see the circlet on my head or the staff I carry? I am a king from the Far East, not a lowly vagabond. Tell me where Sinbad is staying or I'll see to it that you're fired for daring to insult my status," Wukong replied in a commanding tone that Jamal never expected to hear from him.

The man in the other hand shrank at the sound of this voice, and even though he was easily taller than the Monkey King, he now seemed shorter. "I'm sorry Your Majesty," he replied meekly, "Here, this is the room. It's on the second floor near a window, here's where. Please accept my apologies," the man continued, handing them a map with the room number written on.

"Okay!" Wukong replied in a chipper tone. "I think I can figure out where this is actually. Come on Jamal, let's go in from the outside."

Instead of climbing up to the room from inside, they ran back out the door and took Wukong's cloud up to the second floor. It wasn't hard for Wukong to work out where the room was, with the provided information. They hopped off onto the balcony and found only that the large, posh suite was empty of people. It was clearly the right room; Jamal recognized emblems and imagery of Sindria. "Guess he's out," Wukong said with a shrug as they finished searching all the rooms.

"Indeed," said a quiet, but commanding voice. "So let's take this opportunity to talk."

Wukong looked around to see a man, garbed heavily in desert robes enter from the balcony. There was something unsettling about him, that the Monkey King figured was the odd red glow that could vaguely be seen in one eye under his hood. "Who're you?" Wukong asked.

"You may call me the Agent. But let's not waste time on introductions. You've managed to cause a stir wherever you've been, haven't you little monkey," the man said. "You steal slaves, abscond with property that's not yours, and begin asking questions you shouldn't."

"What's it to you?" Wukong asked, strolling casually back towards the balcony. "Are you writing my biography? I appreciate the attempt, but I prefer to keep out of the press."

"As do I and those I represent. So we make this offer to you; throw the weapon into the jungle and cease your investigation and no harm will come to you or your little friend."

"You'd have to catch me first," Jamal interjected. "I have a demigod, a magi and a Fanalis girl for friends. They'd stop you."

"A little monkey, driftwood from a dead world and a savage are your defenses?" the Agent asked with amusement, before turning his attention back to Wukong. "So what will it be? Will you give up you foolish quest? Or will we be forced to take action?"

"Let's think about this; I could either continue what I'm doing and stop a bunch of evil wackjobs from causing harm to the people of this world, or I could just listen to you and go running away to hide in the jungles until you inevitably burn them down and go back on your promise," mused Wukong cheekily. "I'm gonna have to say… screw that!"

He punctuated his point by smashing a small metal disk he'd found on the balcony with his staff. Immediately the Agent vanished and the shattered device sparked and smoked as Wukong scooped it up. "Hologram projector," he explained to Jamal, "He was never here; he was just using a machine to project an image of himself."

"What on earth?" came a voice from the main room.

Wukong pocketed the broken projector and went with Jamal back into the main room to see a tall man with long purple hair and very embellished robes. He was understandably confused to see the two intruders in his room, especially as one of them had a monkey tail. "Be careful Your Majesty!" cried a red haired man, moving to stand in front of the man who Wukong knew could only be Sinbad.

"Hey look, another Berber guy," Wukong pointed out, "Ugh, actually I'm sick of that joke."

"What do you mean joke?" asked Jamal incredulously.

"The whole 'using the wrong name for Fanalis' thing. I'm a thousand years old, you couldn't really expect me to forget something as simple as a name could you?"

"Excuse me," interjected Sinbad, "But who are you? How did you get into this room? And… why do you have a monkey tail?"

"Get your guard here to stand down and I'll answer," answered Wukong, poking the Fanalis man's sword with his staff.

"Yes Masrur, please stand down, I don't think these young men mean me any harm," Sinbad agreed. "In fact, why don't you two have a seat and I'll have some wine brought."

"My apologies for my uncharacteristic outburst," Masrur said to both Sinbad and the two intruders-turned-guests.

A short time later saw Sinbad sipping wine, while Wukong and Jamal shared grapes instead. "So now that we're all a bit more relaxed, would you care to answer my questions?"

"Sure," replied Wukong. "I'm Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. My buddy here is Jamal, a street urchin from Qishan, and we got into your room by flying. We know little Aladdin and the Angry Girl, if that vouches for our legitimacy in any way."

"Well that's definitely not a celebrity name drop, and I'm a nice guy so I believe you. A monkey king, now _that_ is something that I've never seen in all my adventures. Except the only 'monkey' part about you is your tail."

"That's why I'm the king; I'm part human and part monkey, and I was the first one like that."

"And that tail isn't the only thing about him that's like a monkey," Jamal quipped, "Just wait until you get to know him."

"It's good to see strong friendship like yours," Sinbad commented, "Many of us get so caught up in the drama of the world that we forget that true friends are about more than rescuing each other's lives or standing by each other in hard times. Friendship is just as much about teasing each other in good humour and giving each other a hard time without having lasting grudges."

"You sound like Xuanzang," said Wukong pensively. "Anyways! Enough sappy stuff, we have business to get to."

"Business? Of what kind?"

"You're a sailor right? The famous Sinbad the Sailor," Wukong began, "We've been searching the city for the past six months for any clue about something called the Iron Empire. We figured you'd be the perfect person to ask for information."

"The Iron Empire… hm, I can't say that it rings a bell. Is there anything else you know about this place besides its name?"

"Well… they were seeking to purchase a bunch of slaves from Qishan six months back and they paid a man named Qadir for them. We took his bill of sale before we left, and something else."

Wukong looked around the room to make sure Masrur was the only other person in it before continuing. "What I'm about to present to you, King Sinbad, is something you must not tell _anyone_ you've seen. And the same goes for you Pin Chin," the Monkey King said seriously. "I mean you cannot tell anyone. Do not tell Aladdin, or Morgiana. Do not tell anyone in your palace. Do not tell any servants who're not currently present. You cannot tell a soul. Is that clear?"

"It is," Sinbad agreed, his face growing serious as well.

Sun Wukong pulled the gun from his satchel, as well as the bill of sale. It had been dark the last time he'd looked at them, but now that he did so again he noticed an emblem stamped on the bill and engraved in the gun of a sort of 'I' with the middle prong of an 'E'. It seemed an obvious symbol for 'Iron Empire' to Wukong, but it was then that he remembered that the people in this area wrote in a version of Arabic, meaning the 'I' and 'E' of an English alphabet would look foreign to them.

"What is this item?" Sinbad asked, picking up the gun.

"Be careful with that. It's a weapon, a really dangerous weapon that the world isn't ready for. And it's the reason for my secrecy."

"A weapon you say. Of what sort?"

"The sort that fires a beam of destructive light," Jamal chimed in, "It can pierce stone walls like a dagger through parchment."

"Fascinating… and you say it's a weapon? Does it use magoi in some manner?"

"No, it's a machine," Wukong responded, "It uses no magic whatsoever."

"That's remarkable," muttered Sinbad, "Imagine the shock on the Kou Empire's faces if they were opposed by such weaponry."

"Imagine the death that would follow if both sides got a hold of these," countered Wukong.

"Indeed. You are wise to keep this hidden, especially in lands where conflicts utilizing magic cause enough grief as is," Sinbad agreed, placing the gun back down. "And you have my word Your Majesty, the knowledge of its existence will not leave my lips, nor those of Masrur."

"Good, now does any of this stuff ring any bells?"

"It does actually," said Sinbad, grabbing the bill of sale. "This symbol here, while it doesn't make much sense to me, I _have_ seen it before. Let me just grab a chart."

Sinbad got to his feet and grabbed a roll of parchment from an embroidered satchel and rolled it open on a table as Wukong and Jamal joined him. It was an old map that depicted Europe, Asia and North Africa, though Wukong had no doubt that they had different names here. But it was very clear to him what he was looking at. The map was dated though, at least by Wukong's standards, and would've been equivalent to maps from before the Age of Exploration in his home dimension. The southern regions of Africa weren't shown and the edge of the region was labeled only as 'Darkest Regions'. Australia wasn't depicted either, and neither was North or South America.

"So this is your world eh Jamal? Or at least the parts of it you've explored," Wukong commented.

"We're right… here," Jamal said, pointing to a spot at the eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea, or as the map called it the South Sea.

'Hm, Lebanon,' Wukong thought, looking at the spot where Balbadd was. 'Qishan is Riyadh… I figured Tenzan Plateau was Mongolia.'

"Where's this Sindria of yours?" Wukong asked.

"Right here," Sinbad replied, pointing to a barely visible speck in the South Sea. "It's a small nation, but unlike the Kou Empire we're satisfied with our size."

"The Kou Empire hm?" muttered Wukong wistfully, looking at the region of the world with that label. "I prefer the name 'China'."

"That's where you're from isn't it?" Jamal asked, "Your world's version of the Kou Empire, and it's called China."

"Yeah," sighed the Monkey King, "Anyways so that's way out there, then there's Balbadd where we are, the Fanalis are from Africa there."

"Africa?" asked Sinbad, "That _would_ be a shorter name than 'the Dark Continent'. I don't think it'd ever catch on though."

"Reim Empire?" asked Wukong with amusement, "You have a Roman Empire still?"

"Roman? Like Romulus, from the legend of Reim's founding?" Sinbad asked. "The twins raised by wolves who sought to found a new city, but disagreed as to where and Romulus was killed by his brother Remus, who then founded the Reim Empire."

"Wow, that's so weird it's awesome," commented Wukong with surprise. "So what did you want to show us on this map?"

"Well I know a man who sailed to the edge of the South Sea and skirted the edge of the Great Blue. He found a scrap of some immensely durable metal on the beach where he made camp and it had the same emblem on it as you've shown me."

"Has anyone ever explored beyond the Great Blue?"

"No. Such a journey could take years, and in the end you'd probably just reach the shores of the Kou Empire."

"So you would think," muttered Wukong, grabbing the map and pondering over it for a moment before stuffing it into his satchel. "You've been very helpful Your Majesty, but now I think we must be off. I think we'll have to make preparations to travel to the shores of the 'Great Blue'."

"I can perhaps fix you up with a ship for that purpose."

"Nah, that's too slow. Me and Jamal prefer to fly," Wukong said, strolling out to the balcony after grabbing the remainder of his possessions. "Right kid?"

"Oh yeah! Show him how it's done!" Jamal cried as Wukong summoned his cloud and the two of them jumped on.

"See ya around Sinbad, good luck with this Fog Troupe!" called the Monkey King as he flew back towards Aalif's manor.

When they landed, Wukong immediately set about grabbing some parchment and ink after which he began sketching a map of the world, of the _whole_ world. Jamal watched in confusion as he saw the Monkey King draw in places he'd never seen. About fifteen minutes later Wukong's map was complete and he pulled out Sinbad's for comparison. "Alright Jamal; this is the entirety of the world, including the parts your people have yet to explore. This part here," he said, pointing to the Mediterranean equivalent, "Is where the majority of you guys live, except for the eastern parts."

"The rest of the world is so big compared to our little spot," commented Jamal. "But why're you showing me this?"

"Because I've been wondering about how we could scour an entire nation of traders, sailors and explorers and find no mention of the Iron Empire anywhere. With the kind of technology they're capable of they would have factories, and in a world without any such buildings, their existence would stand out a mile away," Wukong explained, "Yet you have the entirety of the Reim Empire, an observant young mage boy who's traveled across this continent, and the greatest explorer currently alive who've all said they know nothing of the place. Not even a story told by drunks at the bars."

"What're you getting at?" Jamal asked, while Wukong moved to crouching on the table over the map.

"If nobody from across three continents recognizes it, especially someone who's traveled them, then there're only two places the Iron Empire could be; here," he said, pointing to Australia, "And here" he finished, pointing to North and South America.

"With your cloud it wouldn't take long to get to either place would it?" asked Jamal.

"Nah, but you'd get bored quickly. If I'm focusing on flying I can't entertain you. Besides, we don't need to check both."

"Why not?"

"Because Sinny said that the chunk of metal with the emblem was found on the shores of the Atlantic, or Great Blue, whatever you call it."

"So you're saying the Iron Empire is on these lands here?" Jamal asked, pointing to the Americas.

"Precisely my dear Watson," concluded Wukong in a British accent.

"Are you sure you don't want to get Aladdin involved? A magi could be really helpful."

"An inexperienced one would not. And you've seen their stuff, it resists magic, _my_ magic no less. If I can't affect them, then some regular magi won't have any chance. Besides, I think he's needed here."

"Yeah I guess you're right. But would it be smart to fly into enemy territory unprepared?"

"Sure, it usually works for me," replied Wukong cheerily. "But don't worry, we'll wait another day or so before going. We should stock up on food and stuff for your benefit."

"I think I know how we can earn some money for food," chirped up Jamal.

Jamal's idea ended up involving having Sun Wukong perform tricks and stunts in one of the town squares. From his standard staff balancing one, to demonstrating his immense strength, and even roping in their Fanalis acquaintance Raza to spar with the demigod, and with similar results as the first time. The Monkey King didn't mind; he loved to show off, a fact he wasn't shy to admit to Jamal. This seemed to awaken some sort of nasty urge in him though, as he made the final act of the day be 'throw stuff at the monkey'.

Of course the stuff chosen, rocks mostly, weren't particularly harmful to Wukong. Indeed someone even went as far as to hurl a knife at him, and it just bounced off him and clattered to the ground. And of course everyone had to pay to do this. It wasn't really the act that bothered the Monkey King, but more the principle of being a target practice dummy. "Come on Jamal, I'm a king for Pete's sake!" he moaned as the crowd began to die down.

"You like to show off, so you showed off your toughness."

"Doesn't make it any less humiliating to just stand there and have shit thrown at me," muttered Wukong grumpily.

It was getting dark by this point, and the fog was rolling in. And for one reason or another people had gone home. And with the fog rolling in it meant the Fog Troupe would be appearing soon. "Well we have enough for supplies, and that's what matters," said Jamal, handing Wukong the satchel of coins, which he pocketed.

"I was thinking; before we turn in let's go see if we can find this Fog Troupe," Wukong said, "I want to see just who they are. And maybe we'll get to see if Aladdin makes a decision."

"You're really fond of that kid aren't you?" asked Jamal as Wukong carried him up to and across the rooftops.

"I'm fond of all kids. It's something that comes from being old; you grow great respect for the young. And I'm not so manly that I won't say he's a cute lil' guy."

It didn't really take them too long to discover the Fog Troupe on the move. Their name was more than just about their tactics, as it turned out they used some kind of chemical weapons as well. They were quite skilled at what they did too; if it hadn't been for the appearance of Sinbad they would've made their raid completely unopposed and unseen. It was on some sort of treasury, and unseen on the rooftops nearby Wukong and Jamal watched the action unfold, curious as to what would happen.

Then they spotted Aladdin appear on the scene and for the first time Wukong witnessed him summon the entirety of his djinn, well minus its head, and the hulking blue figure rose up with Aladdin standing on him. But almost as soon as the djinn, Ugo, appeared Wukong felt something hit him like someone had thrown a mountain. The commotion in front of the treasury meant nobody noticed another loud noise, or heard Jamal's cry of concern.

The Monkey King slammed into the road below and skidded to a halt with his head pounding and his back actually feeling almost sore. "What the hell was that?" he asked, looking up to see a hulking figure land in front of him.

"That hurt little monkey?" asked a grating, mechanical voice that, despite its modifications, was all too familiar.

"That voice… Gazeem?" Wukong asked, getting to his feet, his trained golden eyes searching the dark for his old enemy.

In that moment a flare of bright orange light lit up the sky and Wukong found the former bandit chief and saw that he'd become something truly monstrous. The bandit's head was affixed to a twelve-foot tall mechanical body. It was like a bipedal tank; bulky and solid with drab brown paint. One arm had been converted into a blocky tank barrel that was still smoking, while the other had a three pronged clamp that seemed to serve as a 'hand' and had another weapon in the centre of the 'palm'. Thick, metal tubes ran across the monstrosity and it belched fumes from a pair of mufflers mounted on its backs.

Even Gazeem's still human head had little humanity left. One eye had been replaced with a glowing red lens and a pair of ribbed tubes ran from the armour into the back of his head. And painted on his 'torso', like an evil tattoo, was the emblem of the Iron Empire. "So the Iron Empire makes their move," Wukong muttered. "Well Gazeem, you're looking bigger than last time we met. I think you've been eating too much iron though."

"I made friends. Powerful friends. I'm the first of their new range of weapons, a Steelclad," the former bandit declared proudly. "And my first mission, little monkey, is to destroy you!"


	4. Episode 4

**Episode 4**

"And my first mission, little monkey, is to destroy you!" cried the steelclad Gazeem and opened fire with his other weapon, a heavy plasma weapon that fired a searing glob of red that Wukong felt burn into his exposed chest.

It didn't hurt exactly, but it had enough force to send him flying back and left him with smoke coming off his torso. "Ow," he moaned, jumping to his feet. "Alright fatso, you pack some firepower, but so do I."

Wukong shot a stream of flames at his opponent, but not at his body. Instead he aimed for the road beneath him and although the steelclad's feet began to glow, they remained relatively unharmed. Gazeem burst out laughing at the magical assault. "Magic doesn't work on me idiot, even if you _were_ aiming at me!"

"I wasn't aiming for you," replied Wukong, firing a stream of water at the steelclad's feet.

As he did this, Gazeem finally felt the heat below him and looked down to see he was standing in a pool of molten rock, but that was quickly changing as the Monkey King's water attack cooled it and left his feet trapped in solid stone. Wukong giggled as the cyborg struggled to brace himself properly to free himself and jumped on top of him. "You see pea-brain; nobody ever said you were immune to the _effects_ of magic on other things," he scolded, bopping Gazeem on the head with his staff. "I like the look of these tubes… wonder what happens if something happens to them."

"Get off me you interfering imp!" cried the steelclad angrily, attempting to hit the Monkey King, only for him to jump away and leaving Gazeem to comically hit himself in the head.

"Wu!" called Jamal from a rooftop nearby. "The military is coming to intercept the Fog Troupe! Get that fat thing away from here before they see it!"

"On it!" Wukong replied, ignoring his newly given nickname. "You heard him fatso! If you want me, you gotta catch me!"

"Oh I will," Gazeem replied, finally managing to rip one of his feet free. "And when I do I'll crush your skull and rip out your tail!"

"Ohhh, you're mean," teased Wukong, summoning his cloud as the steelclad freed his other foot.

Wukong took off over the city, with the steelclad following below, jumping to the tops of buildings when necessary. He was lucky it couldn't fly, though its size and bulk wouldn't really have made it a much worse threat if it could. Gazeem was a pretty decent shot with his new weapons though; there were several moments where Wukong had to quickly get out the way of a plasma shot or a mortar shell. The mortar shells he ended up batting off into the distance with his staff to keep them from striking Balbadd.

Then Gazeem threw a curveball at the cloud surfing monkey. He fired a mortar and just as it neared Wukong the steelclad fired his plasma launcher as well. The two shots hit each other and exploded right in the Monkey King's face; dispersing his cloud and sending him hurtling into the ground. He hit the ground hard with a sound of cracking stone and lay there dazed for several minutes while the steelclad used the opportunity to close in and placed its heavy, sturdy foot on him, pressing down hard.

"You're a fool to think that the Iron Empire can be stopped," the cyborg muttered. "Before us this world will fall to industry and war! Magic will be eradicated, and the magi wiped out! When I finish with you I'll begin by killing the little blue-haired brat!"

"Ah, see keyword is 'when'. You're not finished with me yet," replied Sun Wukong with a grin. "What exactly do you have against Aladdin anyways?"

"Since I'm about to kill you, I suppose I can answer that question. That little brat and his genie ruined the best deal I had going! My bandits and I had this little village town completely under our thumb. We showed them who was in charge and they let us do whatever we wanted!"

"You mean you forced them into this arrangement and punished them if they stood up to you."

"Precisely. Then that meddling kid with his flute came into town. Somehow that town grew a backbone because of him and his djinn, and we were thrown out."

"Interesting story, but you won't get to him. You have to finish with me first, as you said."

"Which I will gladly do right now," Gazeem replied, grinding and pushing his foot down harder on the Monkey King trapped beneath it.

"You know; you really have a habit of underestimating me," Wukong replied, grabbing the heavy steel foot and easily pushing it up. "I'm the Monkey King, wielder of the Celestial Staff, and ruler of the wild lands," he continued, pushing Gazeem's foot off him and getting to his feet. "I led an army that even the Kou Empire would be frightened of. I raided the heavens and fought toe-to-toe with the gods themselves."

Wukong picked the steelclad up by the foot he was holding, jumped, and slammed the cyborg down with a thundering crash. He jumped on top of the fallen mechanical monstrosity and strode up to the still vaguely organic head. "It took the very guardians of the universe themselves to put a stop to me. If you think for a second, you fat Frankenstein, that you've seen the full extent of my power then you're sorely mistaken," he finished threateningly. "And I'm sure you can hear me Mr. Agent; and I'm telling you that the people of this world will not be harmed by your evil. They're under my protection."

He finished this point by bringing his staff smashing into Gazeem's lens eye, shattering it and turning it into a sparking scrap of metal. The steelclad cried out in agony at this and brought one of its arms smashing towards him, only for Sun Wukong to smash it away with a solid punch that left a sparking hole and several cracks in the metal. "You should've stayed in prison. Now let's see what happens if I cut these tubes."

Wukong tore out the tubes as the cyborg struggled and horribly pungent diesel fuel poured out, covering Gazeem's still sparking head even as his mufflers began to pump out fewer fumes. "You cut my fuel feed you little shit!"

"I sure did, and you may notice you're covered in the crap," Wukong pointed out, "And while your metal is armoured against magic, I wonder if Iron Empire diesel fuel can boast the same."

Flames flickered around his hand as the steelclad struggled to stand, or even move, but without fuel his body was rendered immobile. When Wukong back-flipped off his grounded foe he sent a fireball hurtling from his fist that struck Gazeem square on, and although his metal body shrugged off the attack, the fuel did not. Soon flames were licking up all over his head and torso as Gazeem yelled in rage more than pain. Then the flames jumped into the torn fuel pipe and the steelclad cursed loudly as the flames hit his fuel tank, at which point he exploded in massive burst of flames.

Bits and pieces of flaming metal fell down around the Monkey King, but he stood amidst the wreckage unharmed and covered in soot. "And that… is that," he muttered as Jamal finally caught up to him.

"Y-you beat it? Is he dead?" the boy asked.

"He was dead the moment he was turned into a machine," Wukong replied. "Look."

Wukong moved behind Jamal and placed two fingers on either side of his head just behind his eyes. In that moment Jamal could also see the beautiful, snow-white bird elementals. They fluttered around the blast mark that Gazeem had left behind, like they'd just been released from a cage. "Are those rukh?" the kid asked with surprise. "You can see rukh _and _share the ability!?"

"Jamal, stay focused. See what they're doing?"

"Oh right… it looks like they've just been freed of something."

"Exactly! I think Gazeem's own rukh were imprisoned during his conversion. It kept him in a sort of semblance of life while preventing any emotions that would be counter-productive to being a weapon. He'd become dependent on the machine to even maintain that semblance of life, so the only way out was to destroy him."

"That's so horrible. How could he want to be that way?"

"To destroy me. Now come on, we gotta get this cleaned up before morning."

Gathering the chunks of broken metal was the easy part, and Wukong was able to dispose of them in the ocean. The hard part was the blast mark as it was burnt into the road and as such couldn't merely be washed off. There were a number of options open for what to do, but Wukong wanted a way that didn't involve destroying that section of road. Finally he had an idea and inscribed a 'down with the king' message into the mark using his finger and once again surprising Jamal with his strength and durability.

"There," he muttered when he finished, "Now the blame will go to the Fog Troupe or something and the town guards will have to clean up the mark instead."

"I can't tell if that's brilliant or lazy," quipped Jamal.

"I came up with it, so it's brilliant. Now come on, the sun's coming up and we need to get back."

A short flight later saw the two of them entering the front door of Aalif's manor. "I saw some more of the Fog Troupe action," Jamal was saying, "They're led by that friend of Aladdin's; Alibaba. I couldn't hear what happened, but Aladdin looked so sad I wanted to run down there and hug him."

"Maybe we'll visit him once more before we leave," Wukong suggested, "Give him some cheering up."

"That's your biggest talent."

"I'm a monkey, it's what we do."

"Actually what you will do is stay right there," said a calm, and horribly familiar voice as the two entered the manor's entrance hall.

Wukong and Jamal looked towards the voice to see the desert-robed figure of the Agent. Standing with him were a pair of men in similar robes that covered obvious military uniforms and wore single spiked, pickelhaube-style helmets complete with gas-masks. Both also held military automatic rifles of some description that overall made Wukong think of World War era soldiers from his home world. More worryingly though was that they had their guns trained on Aalif and Nada, held hostage with their wrists tied. "Glad you could join us little monkey."

"Agent No-Name," Wukong said angrily, "Are you actually here this time, or are you still too much of a coward to confront me in person?"

"Oh I'm quite here," the Agent replied, "You see my men required one extra gun."

The man removed his robe to show he wore a similar military outfit to his henchmen, but with a black, hooded military trench coat. A rebreather covered his nose and mouth and one eye was replaced with a glowing red camera-like lens. With the rest of his head covered by the hood, he would create a very sinister and menacing figure; especially amongst the people of a world used to swords and magic. He then proceeded to aim a pistol, not unlike the one that Wukong currently had in his satchel, and aimed it at the two. "You know that won't kill me right?" the Monkey King said with amusement.

"It's not intended to. Qadir was able to provide us with one valuable bit of information when we tried to collect the slaves you stole from us; your weakness."

"I don't have a weakness," boasted Wukong, "I'm the greatest warrior and mage ever!"

"Oh but you do," the Agent replied, closing the distance slightly so it was clear his gun was fixed on Jamal. "Your friends. You let yourself get bound to other people. People who are weaker than you, and those people open a window with which you can be threatened."

Wukong, for once, found himself without a snarky comment. It was true, he knew that. It was the reason he'd wanted to leave Jamal in Balbadd. It was the reason he'd stuck to the city so long, hoping he could get Jamal to feel settled and attached enough that he wouldn't want to follow him. He was hoping introducing the kid to Aladdin would allow the two of them to bond, and further make him feel like staying. "It seems you're just as aware of this weakness as we are. You've been seeking ways to discourage him from following you, to make him want to stay in this city."

"You have!?" Jamal asked with shock.

"Yes," Wukong sighed, "Because something like this would happen."

"I must question your choice of cities," replied the Agent, "This city, this kingdom, is a hornet's nest. They sit on the verge of civil war, prompted by a decadent king and agents from the Kou 'Empire'," he said the last part with disgust, making no attempt to hide his derision of the nation. "And weak, unimaginative sorcerers who seek to corrupt the very life force around us."

"So you can see the rukh," Wukong muttered in response.

"Yes, the 'rukh' are known to us. Thanks to our technology we've developed ways to artificially grant the ability to see the things."

"What do you want?" Wukong asked abruptly.

"Down to business, good. First I want to congratulate you on the destruction of our steelclad prototype. Now that we've run it through battle we know where to improve. Second I would ask once more that you return the stolen property."

"You still want this thing?" said Wukong, pulling the weapon from his satchel.

"I do. I will not suffer our technology to be in the hands of a primitive animal."

"Ah I see, well then."

Wukong crushed the gun's barrel in his hand and threw the broken weapon at the Agent's feet. "You never said you wanted it in perfect condition."

With most of his face hidden or mechanical, the Agent's expression was difficult to read. He could've been angry, or amused. "You're right," he replied, as calm as ever. "And I never said that I would let your friends live."

"And _I_ can't believe I'm about to use this same trick to get out of this situation," Wukong retorted.

A pair of Wukong's ninja-like air clones dropped from above and struck the soldiers in the chest. Their blows hit hidden chest armour, and the soldiers were able to recover and begin firing at the things. It was enough of a distraction though for Wukong to grab Jamal and their two hosts and carry them through the halls of the manor. "What did you do!?" asked Jamal as Wukong ran.

"I keep a couple spare hairs in my satchel in case I need them," Wukong explained quickly.

The sounds of gunfire rang out, the loud sounds of bullet guns no less, and a sound like a popping balloon as the air clones were destroyed. "What were those sir?" asked one of the soldiers while the Agent inspected the area where the clones had fallen.

"Hairs," he explained at last, picking up one of the strands of now powerless hairs Wukong had used. "Transmogrified hairs. Oh the little monkey is a tricky one. Spread out! Find the monkey and do whatever it takes to keep him from leaving this backwards city!"

"Sir, what if we are forced to take to the streets?"

"Shoot anyone who gets in your way. If nothing else it will fuel the fires of civil war."

Wukong, meanwhile, had made it to the second floor and set down the three people he was carrying so they could run on their own. "Can someone tell me what the hell is happening!?" cried Aalif. "Who are those people!? What're they doing in my house?"

"Using you and your daughter to threaten me," Wukong replied simply. "They're a hidden empire who've apparently advanced their technology centuries ahead of the rest of the world. They're using weapons called guns that can kill from a distance, and as you may have heard they can see those rukh things. That should cover all questions, now I suggest we run. Get to a balcony, we're leaving."

"Leaving!? I won't abandon my home to those maniacs!" Aalif cried, still clearly shaken up. "Why don't you do something?"

"I am. I'm getting you and Nada out of here. You're both in danger, and if any of us stay in this city we endanger it. How do you think an entire empire stays hidden from even Sinbad? They shoot, capture or otherwise ensure the silence of anyone they have contact with."

"But…"

"Aalif! We have to run, and you and Nada have to leave."

"Alright," Aalif sighed at last, "We'll go to a cottage I have in Sindria."

"Works for me," Wukong said, "Now let's _run_!"

At last they took off down the halls as the soldiers arrived at the far end and opened fire. Wukong ran backwards and threw up a magical barrier, only for the bullets to punch right through it. "I hate anti-magic," he muttered, spinning his staff and deflecting the bullets that way instead.

"You're so cool," Jamal gushed in response.

"I know. Oh good, balcony just over here."

He moved ahead of the three and grabbed their hands, pulling them behind quicker than they would ever manage on their own. Then they were at the balcony and the soldiers were closing in quickly as Wukong summoned his cloud in a swish of his staff. He and Jamal climbed on immediately, followed by a tentative Nada. "Father, come on," Nada urged.

"But… it's a cloud," Aalif muttered.

"And I've flown on it countless times in the last six months," Wukong replied. "Now seriously, get on before they catch up!"

"Well… if you insist."

Aalif stepped up onto the cloud and his eyes went wide with surprise as his face lit up completely. "This is amazing, it's like the softest and lightest cloth ever," he said. "Young man you truly are a wonder. Though I guess it's not appropriate to call you 'young' is it?"

"Whatever floats your boat," replied Wukong with a shrug.

Aalif turned to watch as Wukong began to fly away from the balcony, and saw the black coated Agent arrive on it. He fired his own weapon at the fleeing group and the high pitched whine of a focused laser blast sounded out as the beam flew straight towards Nada. "Nada! Look out!" Aalif cried, moving in front of her.

"What's goin- Aalif!" Wukong called, watching along with the other three as the laser burst struck the man in the back with a sound like burning wood and a searing hole appeared in his torso.

He choked and spluttered for a second, then stumbled and fell off the cloud, his burnt and broken body tumbling to the streets below. "Noooo!" Nada cried in horror as he fell. "Wukong! You have to save him! Get him, do something!"

"I'm getting him," Wukong replied, swooping down to the streets and scooping up the corpse of their generous host.

He laid the body on the cloud and continued on his flight towards Sindria while Jamal just stared at where Aalif had been when he was shot in horror and sadness. "Monkey, you have to save him!"

"I can't, he's dead," Wukong replied somberly.

"Then bring him back! You can do anything," she cried hysterically.

"No… I can't," he replied simply. "I can't resurrect the dead. Only the Guardians can do that, and they only do so under rare circumstances. I'm sorry Nada."

"That's… no," she muttered before settling into mourning, they all did, as Wukong sped onwards toward Sindria.

With Wukong's cloud the journey to Sindria took only forty-five minutes or so, and when they arrived at the island nation Wukong brought them in to land in the forest. In the back of his mind he noted the island's similarity to a place called Nisyros in his world, but the more pressing matters called his attention as they buried Aalif and held their own, small funeral.

After this Wukong wandered off a bit to meditate, something he rarely did, while his human companions mourned. The reason for this was to speak more directly to the rukh, who fluttered around the life-giving forest like the birds they resembled. In the months since he'd first come to Balbadd, Wukong had taken time each night to commune with the elementals and get them more used to his presence in their world. They no longer seemed to be afraid of him, but as Aladdin had noted, they still found him slightly confusing.

But now, as he called out to them, they responded in surprising warmth and purpose and he felt certain that they had finally begun to accept him. Though to his surprise they seemed to be accepting him more as one of their own than one of the humans. When he realized this he chuckled in the midst of his meditation. "Whatever floats your boat guys," he muttered with amusement.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for in the rukh and when he did he strode back to Aalif's grave. "Nada," he said as he returned.

She didn't seem to hear him, so he moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was taller than him, standing about five-feet and six inches and thus two inches taller than himself. But she seemed smaller right now. "Nada," he said again.

This time she moved her head in acknowledgment, but only muttered a barely audible "What?" in response.

"There's something I want to show you."

She looked over to him as he strode around in front of her and buried his staff in the soil. "I can't bring your father back to life," he began, making sure it stood steady. "But I can make it so you can see him one last time."

"How?" she asked, with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

"The rukh of course," replied Wukong simply. "He hasn't faded quite yet, and my staff is the point he'll fly to. He'll be here in a moment."

"Really!?" Nada cried happily "But… I can't see the rukh."

"I can. And it's an ability I can share for a little bit," Wukong explained, moving behind Nada and placing two fingers on each of her temples just as he'd done with Jamal.

Before Nada's eyes the flocking, white elemental birds appeared. They swirled and flocked particularly thickly around Wukong's staff like swirling light. Then they spread out as the transparent form of Aalif appeared. "Nada," he said softly, "I can't stay long, but before we say good-bye I have a couple things I'd like to say."

"Father," Nada muttered, "Don't leave me."

"Hush child," Aalif replied, still softly and gently, "Now I know you have never been a violent sort, but as my death was indeed murder I would like to impress upon you a request; don't seek revenge. Such selfish hatred leads only to destruction and ruin. Promise me, my daughter, that you will never lose sight of who you are."

"I promise," replied Nada simply.

"Good. Know that I have left my fortune, my manor and my company to you. Do with them as you wish."

He turned to Wukong next who was still in position, keeping his spell active. "And to you, Monkey King, do not blame yourself for my death. Don't any of you blame yourselves for it. I gave my life to save my daughter, the only ones to blame are myself and the monster who fired his weapon."

"But…"

"No buts," Aalif responded, "I'll not have you blaming yourselves for a decision I made."

"I know," Wukong sighed, "Doesn't make it any easier."

"Loss is never easy, no matter how much you face it. Also you have my deepest thanks for providing myself and my daughter these last moments. You are truly a wondrous person, both in power and generosity."

"No problem."

"Now alas, my daughter, we must part once more and I'm afraid this time it will be permanent."

"But father, what do I do with you gone? Where do I go? I don't know what to do with my life."

"Those are questions you'll have to answer yourself I'm afraid," Aalif replied. "Farewell my daughter, and know that I love you."

"I love you too," replied Nada sadly.

"Look after her won't you?" Aalif asked Wukong.

"Of course I will," the Monkey King replied, "Monkey's honour."

Aalif's spirit faded with a smile, turning back into a swirl of rukh who flocked together and flew away through the forest and into the sky. More of the elementals flicked through the trees, but as pure life energy without personality or individuality. "Aren't they beautiful?" Wukong asked Nada.

"I suppose," the girl muttered as Wukong removed his fingers and the sight of the elementals faded.

"They are there remember, even if you can't see them," he said, and was surprised when she turned around and hugged him.

Wukong wasn't sure he could remember the last time he'd been hugged by a friend, especially not in as sincere, grateful, and warm a way as this. Either way he returned the gesture with the same gentleness. "Thank you Wukong," said Nada, "You rescued me twice and allowed me to say good-bye to my father. There's no way I can ever repay your kindness."

"Don't worry about it," replied Wukong as she let him go. "Come on, let's go find Jamal and get you to this cottage of your father's."

It didn't take them long to find Jamal; he'd only gone a short distance away to mourn on his own. But when they found him and began to walk towards the city, Nada cleared her throat to grab their attention and surprised them with her next words. "I've been thinking… can I come with you?"

"Hm… maybe," Wukong replied, "Tell me why."

"Uh, well, you're going to try and stop these… Iron Empire people right? So you'll need all the help you can get."

"Keep going."

"And, well, they have to be stopped. I want to stop them before they hurt anyone else or tear apart anymore families. If they have weapons that kill with such ease, then even the Kou Empire and magi would be helpless against them. So that's why I want to come with you."

"What about revenge?"

"No," Nada replied firmly, "Not only did father tell me not to, but I'd never considered it in the first place."

"Well in that case," began Wukong, jumping to a tree branch and hanging down by his tail. "I saw welcome aboard Nada!"

"Are you sure?" Jamal asked. "She can't fight."

"Neither can you," Nada pointed out.

"Yeah, remind me to address that problem," replied Wukong, "But not right now. We need to buy some supplies now that we have a few moments to rest. Hopefully Sindria accepts Balbadd currency."

He swung up into the tree and jumped to the next one, and another one before turning around and calling back to the two humans. "Come on guys! Sindria's waiting!"

Nada and Jamal shared a nod of agreement and, after Nada took one last glance back towards her father's grave, they took off after their friend.


	5. Episode 5

**Episode 5**

"So… this is Sindria," said Wukong with his hands behind his head and staff over his shoulders as the three of them walked through the city. "Not bad, all things considered."

"You think you could do better?" asked Jamal.

"Sure. I'd have a water park over that way, a roller coaster there, some more jungles across the island with lots more fruit trees."

"What are all these things you speak of?" Nada asked "A park of water and a roller coaster?"

"I'll catch you up later," replied Wukong, waving his hand dismissively. "And I think the entire city should be in the trees."

"So basically a city for monkeys instead of for humans," Jamal said.

"Hm… good point I suppose. Well then to make it a better human city they just need the water park and roller coaster… and maybe a statue of me."

"Does he always speak this highly of himself?" Nada asked, who had spent little real time with the two over the last six months.

"Yes, but I think he has some right to it," Jamal admitted, "You've seen how cool he is!"

"True dat," Wukong said cockily. "Don't worry, I'm only half-serious… well maybe three quarters serious.

"Point is don't take it too seriously. I let my ego rule my judgment and actions once and paid a heavy price for it."

"What sort of price?" asked Nada.

"A heavy one. I'll tell you another time, but the bulk of it involved being locked in a cave for centuries. Come on, let's buy some food and stuff and get on our way. I don't want to give Agent Nutcase time to catch up to us."

"Why don't we get Jamal a new cloak?" Nada asked, "The one you're wearing is so tattered."

"I like this one," Jamal protested, "I've had it since I was six."

"Actually you'll both probably need something a bit warmer," Wukong interjected, "The northern continent of the Iron Empire, if it's anything like the one in my world, has some quite chilly parts."

"How chilly?" asked Jamal.

"Let's just say that just wearing tattered Arabian pants and a desert cloak won't do much for you," replied Wukong pointedly.

"I don't think you'll find much warm clothing here in Sindria," said Nada, "After all it's warm here all year round."

"Good point. Then let's just get some fresh fruit and get out," Wukong replied, "Oh! What's that!?"

He dashed over to a crowd gathered in a nearby square in the middle of which had been erected a shallow square basin, about twenty by twenty feet, filled with sand and on which stood a massively muscular man, standing almost seven feet tall and wearing nothing but a loincloth much like Qishan guards. His reddish-brown hair and purple eyes seemed to suggest he had Fanalis somewhere in his bloodline, which would explain his size and musculature. And with him; holding up the giant man's arm and declaring he was a champion, was a short, fat man who Wukong recalled seeing in Qishan. Except he now had a goatee.

"Step right up men and women! Step right up! Do you have what it takes to stay in this ring with Abasi the Merciless, the Terror of Heliohapht!" he called out.

"Hey! You're that wine vendor from Qishan," Jamal called out. "Budel wasn't it?"

"Ah… you've met my brother!" Budel said loudly, spotting Jamal. "No, my name's Dubel and I'm assistant and manager to Abasi the Merciless!"

"That's just Budel with the 'b' and 'd' swapped," Jamal pointed out.

"Our mother wasn't creative with names."

"That doesn't-" Jamal began, before getting cut off by 'Dubel' returning to advertising.

"Abasi the Merciless, he has the strength of ten men! Do you think you can defeat him!?"

"I do!" Wukong called, hopping into the sand arena.

"You?" Dubel asked with a laugh. "Don't you think you're a bit short for this kid?"

"I think I can handle myself just fine," replied Wukong, "Give me a chance, I'm sure I'll impress you."

"It's your funeral kid, but it'll cost you two gold coins."

"Here you go, freshly minted from Balbadd," Wukong replied, tossing two coins to the man.

"Hm, you don't see these anymore," Dubel said, biting them to make sure they were real. "Well alright kid, you've earned your place in the ring."

"And if I win I get my gold back, okay?"

"Hah! Yes fine, _if_ you win."

Wukong pulled off his orange vest and tossed it down to the exasperated looking Nada, and a Jamal who seemed torn between the chance to see his hero in action and exasperation at his willingness to show off. With that Wukong returned to the arena, setting his staff down just outside it. He had some decent lean muscle that showed across his bare torso, toned from centuries of fighting, but he was nowhere near as massive as Abasi; even with the height difference accounted for. Wukong resembled more a gymnast or an athlete, while Abasi was just giant. "Don't worry little guy, I'll try to go easy on you," the giant rumbled, but not unkindly.

"Alright, if you say so."

The match began and Abasi threw a punch at Wukong that would've knocked any man flat on his back. But instead of doing this, Wukong grabbed his fist with one hand and easily threw him to the sandy ground; with enough force to completely knock the breath out of the giant man. There were gasps and applause from the audience, and a particularly audible cry of horror from Dubel. "Well that 'going easy' plan didn't work," quipped the Monkey King.

"Wh… what was that?" Abasi gasped after a couple seconds as he caught his breath.

"Didn't hurt you too much did I?" Wukong asked, offering his hand to the man, who took it as he got to his feet.

"No… no, but I never thought… you're not a Fanalis, I've only ever been beaten by a pure-bred Fanalis."

"I'm the Monkey King," Wukong replied simply, catching his vest that Jamal threw up to him, and putting it back on. "Alright Budel or Dubel, I lasted in the ring and I beat the guy. Give me the coins back."

"N-not so fast! I never said the match was over."

"I threw him to the ground and he was there for more than ten seconds; the match is definitely over," replied Wukong, picking up his staff.

"Best two out of three!" Dubel demanded.

"Fine, if you're going to be that much trouble then keep the money and I'll be sure to make sure King Sinbad finds out about your operation here _and_ how you've been double-crossing people. And maybe I'll find a way to tell Alibaba that you ran away from Qishan and are working on scamming people. How does that sound? Chief of Qishan and King of Sindria both angry at you. You'll be banished from both your home and the most liberal nation on the southern seas. And not only that, they'll both probably fine you considerably more than just two Balbadd golds," Wukong explained casually. "And don't doubt my ability to contact these people."

Dubel shuddered at these threats, especially at the prospect of a fine, but after a good few minutes of sweating profusely he seemed to regain his composure. "Fight Abasi here twice more and win, and you'll get your money back," he said stubbornly.

"But sir you've seen how strong he is," Abasi protested.

"Then fight harder," Dubel countered coldly, "The crowd is getting restless."

It was true, the crowd seemed to be getting impatient with the blockage of the square and there were cries demanding that either the two combatants fight, or to stop taking up space. Dubel was conspicuously ignorant of the fact that most of the anger was being directed at him and not the fighters. "You see? Now take your lumps like a man, or I'll just have to cut you off."

"As you wish," Abasi sighed defeatedly. "Come mighty one, we must go two more rounds."

"You sure about that?" asked Wukong, having heard the conversation between the giant and his 'manager'. "If you're being threatened into this in some way you don't have to do it."

"That's not it. Come on, let's fight!"

Abasi charged at Wukong with the force of a truck, while the Monkey King deftly and easily jumped over him and landed behind him. "I'm not going to fight you if you don't want to," Wukong replied, whirling around and putting out his hand as Abasi charged at him again.

Abasi's head rammed right into Wukong's palm. The crowd gasped and Dubel grinned hopefully. But when the cloud of sand that Abasi had kicked up cleared, everyone saw that Wukong was holding Abasi at arm's length with ease. And the sheer force of impact seemed to have left Abasi stunned, like he'd just smashed his head into a cliff. "Dude, you gotta stop," Wukong reprimanded, letting Abasi go and watching as he slumped to the ground in a daze and the round was awarded to Wukong. "I'm not going to fight you, but if you keep this up you're going to break your skull. Seriously, if you're being forced into this somehow, I can help you."

Wukong placed a hand on Abasi's head and felt a thin fracture in his skull. "You really hurt yourself just then," Wukong muttered, "You should go and rest."

"It's just a scratch," rumbled Abasi, getting to his feet.

"No it's not, you have a crack in your skull. You're not me, you can't recover from that in a few minutes," said Wukong.

"You just won round two, let's finish this," Abasi replied.

With a sigh, Wukong put his staff down once more and waited for Dubel to begin the match. When he did, Abasi jumped and brought his foot smashing down towards the Monkey King. Not willing to have Abasi injure himself any further, Wukong jumped out of the way and landed behind his opponent, after which he kicked the giant's legs out from under him with a sweeping kick. When Abasi hit the ground, Wukong jumped on his back and smashed his fist into the man's back with enough force to wind him and leave him sore, but not enough to cause serious injury.

Another ten seconds later the round had ended, with Wukong clearly the victor once again. Dubel grudgingly handed Wukong back his money without a word and only said "Fine, you win. Now go away."

Wukong rejoined his companions, who were both looking extremely impressed, though in Jamal's case that was something of an understatement. "He was huge, and charging right towards you, and you just held out your hand and stopped him and he practically passed out! He had no hope against you at all!"

"Yeah I know," muttered Wukong.

"Let's go get our supplies and get going," Nada said.

"We're not leaving yet," Wukong objected.

"What? Why?"

"That Abasi guy, he's being forced to work for Budel somehow," he explained. "I heard them talking. There's something going on, and I don't like it."

"But what about the Agent?" Jamal asked. "If those Iron Empire nuts catch up to us."

"We'll be fine. They don't even know where we are, and we won't be here too long. But I'm going to help this guy. In fact," Wukong paused while he grabbed the money and handed it to the two of them, "You two go get stuff while I deal with this."

Without waiting for an answer, Sun Wukong hopped up to the roofs and, once out of sight of anyone below, shifted his form into a hornbill and perched on the edge of the building, observing Abasi and Budel as the crowd dispersed. There was nothing interesting there, just Abasi putting back on his pants and Budel greedily counting his money. It seemed Wukong hadn't been the first to give fighting Abasi a shot, but he _was_ the first to win.

'Well Abasi doesn't seem to be a slave,' Wukong thought as the two proceeded back towards an inn. 'It'd be difficult to keep him a slave… though Morgiana was a slave and she's a pure-blood Fanalis. But she was enslaved like that from childhood, Abasi only met Budel recently. And slavery is illegal here anyways.'

With that in mind Wukong followed the two through the streets and, when they got to the inn, he shifted his form into a honey bee and flew in through a crack in the door. He saw the two head upstairs, only for a cleaning maid to spot him and bring her fly swatter around towards him. "There'll be no bees stinging our guests," she muttered angrily, swatting at him with the fan.

Though still durable in shapeshifted forms, he was still considerably weaker than normal if the form was smaller. This became apparent when he took a second to rest his wings on a wall, only for the cleaning maid to take the opportunity and smack him hard with the fan. 'Ow,' Wukong thought, feeling like he'd hit his head on something.

It wasn't really painful by any means, but it was the force compared to his size that dazed him, and the general blow to his ego that being swatted caused. So a moment later, when he'd recovered, he flew off again and led the woman towards a closet where, once inside, he quickly shifted his form into a tiger and the moment the maid opened the door he growled menacingly. She shut the door hurriedly and a moment later opened it again, only to see the tiger had vanished and Wukong, now in the form of a midge fly was hiding in the corner of the room.

The woman sighed and muttered something about overwork as she closed the door and left. Wukong resumed his bee form and flew back through the inn, miffed that he'd lost Abasi's trail. 'Well… guess I'll just take the brute force method,' he thought and flew to each door in turn and crawled through the crack at the top just enough to see who was inside each room. Due to his small size and the very nature of this method of searching it was a good forty-five minutes before he finally found a room, on the far end of the second floor, in which the giant was sitting on the bed with a cloth on his forehead.

Wukong flew into the room, landed on the stack of drawers and returned to normal form, at which point he cried "Hiya!"

In response Abasi cried out and struck out on instinct, with Wukong grabbing his fist and absorbing the force of the punch. "It's you!" the giant cried, sitting back on the bed while clutching his chest. "Where did you come from? Why did you just scare me half to death?"

"Through the door and because it's funny."

"What do you mean through the door? I would've heard you. I would've _seen_ you."

"A magician never reveals his secrets," replied Wukong, hopping off the drawers and walking over to Abasi.

"And you stopped a punch that would've shattered the arms of most men. I'm not surprised," Abasi sighed.

"I'm not a man, I'm a monkey," Wukong quipped cheekily. "Note the tail."

"Why're you here?" Abasi asked.

"Well first of all I want to deal with that crack in your skull," Wukong said, feeling the man's forehead for the fracture.

"I can handle it. I've been hurt worse in my life."

"Perhaps, but I can handle it better," the Monkey King replied. "Ah, there it is. Lean back on the bed okay?"

"You can handle it better hm? What else can you do better than me?" Abasi asked.

"Make curry. You haven't lived until you've eaten my curry. I might make some for the entire bar down there later in fact."

Wukong placed one hand on the man's forehead and a slight green mist swirled around it for a couple seconds, and when it faded away he jumped back while the Abasi felt his head. "It's gone," he muttered.

"Healing spell, not one of my specialties, but a small fracture is still well within my skills," Wukong explained quickly.

Abasi sighed, still rubbing his forehead in disbelief, while Wukong toyed with some of the items in the room and ended up balancing the drawers on the end of his staff with such casual ease that Abasi found himself once more impressed. "You… you're such a strange thing. You make the strongest Fanalis seem like children, and you clearly enjoy showing off, but you have surprising mercy. You're tougher than the hardest stone, but when someone injures themselves against you, instead of flaunting the victory and playing to the crowd, you track them down and heal them. And you can cast magic, _and_ balance a chest of drawers on a staff. To top it all off you have a monkey tail. What are you? _Who_ are you to be so fair and friendly?"

"An old man," Wukong replied simply. "A very, very old man."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. I can also see rukh, if that adds anything to my resume. But I'm not here to talk about me, as much as I love doing that. I'm here to talk about you."

"There's nothing to talk about," Abasi replied.

"Sure there is!" stated Wukong cheerily, putting the drawers down sitting on them once again, with his staff across his lap. "Let's start off with basic stuff. Is Abasi your real name? Are you really from Heliohapt? And how come you're so big?"

"Easy questions I suppose. Yes is the answer to the first two, though I was living in Qishan for a number of years; until that boy Alibaba took charge. Shortly after he left I started working for Budel. As for the size, well, I have family history across the Dark Continent and some people there are quite large. I also have some Fanalis in me, so building muscle and being strong come easier to me."

"Well there ya go, you have stuff to talk about. You weren't ever a slave were you?"

"No, no, I was employed by a caravan for heavy lifting, but I was let go in Qishan and left looking for work. Budel offered me steady employment, so I took it. We came to Sindria because it's a peaceful spot that's good for business."

"If you want steady employment, then why not take a different caravan job? Why not join the army or city guard?" Wukong asked. "Or play to different talents."

"My strength and toughness _are_ my talents," Abasi explained with a sigh. "Truth is I'm not really good at anything. That's why I work for Budel. He hires waste that washes in from the desert. I hear that's what Chief Alibaba was when he first came to Qishan."

"Ah, now see this is where you're wrong. If Alibaba was such trash then how did he capture a dungeon and become Chief of Qishan?" Wukong challenged, "And now he leads freedom fighters in Balbadd. And what's stopping you from making something more of your life than working for a fat wine vendor like he did?"

"Because all I have is my strength. Now hundreds of Sindrians have seen a kid upstage me."

"So what if I'm stronger than you?" Wukong asked. "That doesn't make you weak."

"But it means I'm not the best, and people are only interested in an attraction because it's the best or most unique. Now that they've seen you they won't have any interest in me."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. And while this is all interesting, it doesn't really explain why you work for Budel when you clearly don't want to."

"I'm a freak whose only asset is my strength. Budel puts it to work and pays me. That's all there is to it."

'He's hiding something,' Wukong thought. 'There's something else that fits in here, and he doesn't want to tell me.'

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"I'm sure," Abasi muttered, "Now I'd appreciate it if you left."

"Yeah, yeah, I was just about to. But one more question; where can I find Budel?"

"At this time he's probably at the stand he opened up, selling wine. Why?"

"No particular reason. See ya!"

With that Wukong jumped out through the window and landed deftly on the ground below, and from there he jumped up to the rooftops like he always did. He figured that if he couldn't get any more out of Abasi, then he'd just have to get it out of Budel. 'Besides, Budel's easier to interrogate,' he thought cheekily.

In customary style he popped down in front of Budel when he found the wine stand in question. And like everyone he greeted in that manner, Budel seemed like he jumped a foot in the air. "Hah! Nobody's immune to the Wukong Surprise," he cheered as the fat merchant calmed down.

"Not you again," he spluttered when he'd caught his breath. "What do you want?"

"To talk about Abasi," Wukong replied simply.

"What's there to talk about? He's a giant oaf who works for me by putting on my little sideshow. Of course I might have to move on from Sindria now that you've come along and upstaged him. Although… would you be averse to making some money altering my act? Imagine demonstrating your strength and durability compared to the giant lug. People would definitely pay to see that."

"Yeah they would, but I'm not doing that for you. In fact you're gonna come with me."

"Don't be ridiculous! I have a business to run."

"You'll just have to go on break. Don't worry, this won't take too long," Wukong said cheerily.

Still upside-down, he grabbed the merchant and dragged him easily out of his wine stand, and slung him over his shoulder, and it happened so quickly that Budel took a few moments to grasp what was happening before screaming in fright.

"What're you doing!?" the man cried while Wukong jumped up to the rooftops, easily carrying him.

"Taking you somewhere to talk," Wukong replied simply.

Wukong carried Budel right out of the city and finally set him down when they'd reached the fields outside of it. When he set his passenger down, the merchant collapsed to the ground in gratitude. "So Budel, and don't try any of that Dubel crap, what can you tell me about Abasi?" Wukong asked.

"I found him in Qishan, he's from Heliohapt, and he wanted a job," Budel explained simply.

"Where in Qishan did you find him?"

"The streets. He was a homeless man begging for a job, so I gave him one."

"And yet he doesn't like his job, and with his size and skills he could easily get others, so what are you doing to keep him under your payroll?" Wukong asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Budel.

"So your passive-aggressive threats to a giant somehow keep him under your employ because of sheer force of personality?" asked Wukong disbelievingly. "You could barely keep Alibaba under your employ, and you began to suck up to him once he'd become rich. You're not exactly the strongest willed person around, but Abasi is. So there's something missing here, and you're going to tell me what it is."

"How're you going to do that?" Budel asked with a mixture of sarcasm and genuine anxiety.

"Well," Wukong began, moving over to the merchant and placing a hand on his head, "There was a time in the past where I'd handle these sort of situations by threatening to crush the skull of someone like you. Sometimes I'd do it just because I was bored."

He squeezed the anxious man's head ever so slightly, causing him no pain, but causing him to tremble nervously. "B-but that was then right? I've seen you in the ring, you're too nice to crush someone's skull," Budel pointed out.

"You're right," said Wukong, removing his hand, "Not that I'm averse to killing, but Xuanzang told me to always look for better options than murder and cold-blooded intimidation. So I have something different planned."

"You won't get me to tell you anything. My employees work for me because of my generosity. That's all."

"If you say so," replied Wukong with a shrug, grabbing several hairs from his head.

He hurled them out into the air and a total of ten air clones appeared, dropping down around him. "Alright team," Wukong said, "Spread out and get into formation; we've got a lot of practice ahead of us."

"Uh… practice?" Budel asked as four of the clones got into a diamond formation, with a fifth one in the center.

"Something's missing," muttered Wukong, "I know!"

He made a simple gesture and a diamond of white lines appeared on the grass, complete with large squares at each corner and a circle in the center. "There we go. Just a little magical re-colour, but it'll fade in about an hour so let's get the game on!" he cried. "The game is Budelball. It's like baseball except instead of using a baseball, you use a fat, deceptive wine merchant," explained Wukong to his clones. "So Clone 1 is catcher and umpire, Clone 2, 3 and 4 are on bases, Clone 5 you're pitching. Clone 6… get in the outfield," continued the Monkey King.

Obediently one of the clones yet to take position moved into the assigned role and the remainder took their places, along with Wukong himself, in a queue waiting to move up to home plate. Meanwhile Budel was sitting in the middle of the field, right next to the pitcher, looking extremely nervous. "Last chance!" Wukong called.

"Never! I will never reveal my secret to ensuring employee loyalty," Budel declared stubbornly.

"Suit yourself. Clone 7, get up to plate."

The clone at the front of the little queue the rest had formed moved up to the home plate and hefted its staff like a bat. Meanwhile the pitcher encased Budel in a magical bubble and generated a small suction vortex to draw the bubble to its hand and hold it, with Budel freaking out the whole time. Then it drew its arm back and thrust it forward, reversing the suction and causing the bubble to go flying; just as though he'd pitched a baseball.

"It's a shame he's so big," muttered Wukong as Clone 7 swung and sent the 'ball' flying, "I hate having to involve magic in sports, but when the ball's too big to properly hold in one hand; what's to be done?"

Wukong was surprised with Budel's endurance. Even after being batted, thrown, caught and nearly dropped a number of times, and screaming and crying throughout all of it, he still didn't talk. Although when Wukong thought about it, that may have been more trauma and terror keeping him quiet than stamina and endurance. Then it was his turn up to bat and he held his staff in preparation. "Oh! You know Budel, my staff may hit more powerfully than the staves of my clones. They're just simulacrums of air around my hairs, I'm the real thing. But no worries, I'll try not to hit too hard."

The pitcher prepared to throw the imprisoned wine merchant, who seemed close to passing out. "Oh yeah! I forgot to mention before this, but if that bubble hits there ground there's a good chance it'll just burst. Don't worry though, if that happens I'll make sure to get you to Magnostadt before you die. Those healing mages are pretty damn good I'm told, though you might have to suspend business for a few months," Wukong added cheerily. "Anyways, let's keep this practice moving."

The pitcher threw, just as Budel cried out "Okay! I'll talk!" and instead of being batted, Wukong grabbed the bubble and tossed it to the ground, where it promptly broke.

"I knew you'd come around eventually," the Monkey King stated cheekily, giving Budel a few minutes to recover. "So fatso, what'cha got to tell me?"

"I don't know anything about him before he was in Qishan. What I do know is he has some kind of alcohol addiction. It got him kicked out of his caravan, and out of any job he attempts to take because he'll show up to work drunk or end up stealing wine stock," Budel explained through breaths, "Of course I'm a wine vendor, so when I found him sleeping on the streets in Qishan and saw his strength I promised to pay him in booze if he did the little sideshow thing. I didn't want Alibaba finding out, and I'd always wanted to go to Sindria, so here I am."

"Ah… see that ties everything together quite well. It also means you're a corrupt bastard, but I pretty much already guessed that from what Aladdin told me about you."

"It's business," huffed Budel.

"No, it's exploitation," Wukong countered, "Business is paying your employee some of your own profits, not just encouraging and exploiting their fears and weaknesses to keep the money all for yourself while they slide further down a path to self-destruction."

"Details, details," Budel dismissed. "Look, you got your information, so can I go back to work now?"

"Oh sure, you can go back to work," replied Wukong with a hint of sarcasm and anger.

A short time later Budel was hanging by his vest from a tall wooden post near his wine stand, struggling and flailing as he tried to get down while Wukong hovered beside him on his cloud. "There, you can work out how to get down from there," Wukong quipped cheekily, "And one more thing."

He flew down to his wine stand and pulled off the cloth sun tarp, then flew back to Budel and hung it around him with some rope from his satchel. Then he used his re-colour spell to paint the phrase 'I'm a fat jerk who pays his alcohol addicted employees in booze instead of money' in bright red so everyone could see it. "Hey Sindria!" Wukong called out, "If you turn your eyes up here you will see a man who thought he could get away with paying his problem drinker employees in wine and encouraging their problems instead paying them in money and attempting to push them towards dealing with their problem."

There was a general 'boo' from the crowd below that made Budel look even more uncomfortable than he already was. "Now since I know Sindria, and Sinbad, value honesty, generosity, and general non-jerk behaviour, I'll leave the fatso here to whoever's in charge in Sinbad's absence."

"How do we know you're telling the truth," someone from the crowd asked intelligently, a guard in fact.

"Because," Wukong began, pulling a sheet of parchment out of Budel's vest pocket and pinning it to the canvas, "He kept the contract on him, and now it's _on_ him. Now if you'll all excuse me, this monkey has to go wrap up the other end of this unfortunate little conspiracy."

He zoomed off towards the inn where Abasi was staying and swung in through the window of his room while dismissing his cloud at the same time. He landed as skillfully as ever and saw a surprised Abasi with a tankard and a cask of wine that he had open. "Dude, you drink a full cask of wine? When you get to that point I think it's time to get help," Wukong commented with amusement.

"You're back… I guess you managed to get the secret out of boss then," Abasi replied wearily.

"Had to toss him around a bit, but he sang like a canary. Now he's hanging on a pole with the contract and a little flag I made him on his chest."

"You did what!?" Abasi asked, sounding almost amused himself. "This I have to see."

"Hold on," Wukong interjected quickly, "You're not going anywhere until we talk about your problem."

"If you insist," sighed Abasi. "Clearly trying to get out of it won't work."

"Damn right it won't," replied Wukong with his usual cheer. "Now vhy don't you zit down and ve can discuss your problems, ya?" he added in a strong accent, sitting down on the drawers like earlier.

"Well… it wasn't easy for me as a kid. People think bigger is better, but I've discovered that's only true to a limit. I'm over that limit, so I was just seen as a freak. And I couldn't fight back against kids treating me like dirt, because I was worried I'd seriously injure or kill them. I knew I was strong, and I didn't have control of my strength. Plus being part-Fanalis just made me stand out even more. Pure Fanalis are well respected, but hybrids are just seen as useless; too big and strong to be humans, but too bulky and weak to be Fanalis.

"So I thought, when I was about sixteen, that I'd show people I wasn't just a useless freak. So I trained with makeshift clubs and presented myself to the Heliohapt military, hoping they'd accept me as a heavy weapons soldier. I was so nervous and things seemed to keep going wrong, and then I stumbled and accidentally threw my club into one of the evaluators."

"Did he died?" asked Wukong curiously.

"Not initially, he was in critical condition, but despite the best efforts of healers he died several hours later. I…"

"Felt guilty and depressed, so you started drinking as much alcohol as you could to drown away the pain. Am I right?" Wukong asked.

"Yes. I joined the caravan just to get out of Heliohapt. I wasn't guilty of anything, but I was just even more of an outcast than before. I wanted to try hard work to escape what I'd done, and to avoid the path to becoming a homeless drunk. Except in Qishan that's exactly what happened. I got caught stealing money from the caravan for booze and, as you'd expect, they're not fond of people who do that. So I got fired and ended up in the streets until Budel hired me."

"You need to stop," Wukong said simply. "The alcohol is wrecking your life and you're relying on a fat, greedy idiot to barely keep it together."

"Don't you think I know that!?" Abasi snapped. "I just… I can't stop. The more sober I am the more the pain of guilt hits me."

"Well… I can't give you a full treatment. I'm a monkey warrior-mage, not a healer. That was Xuanzang's department. But I can do two things. One; denial," replied Wukong, grabbing the cask of wine and downing all of it in about a minute, leaving Abasi quite stunned. "Alcohol doesn't affect me," Wukong stated, "Can't get drunk, can't suffer any illnesses from the stuff."

"I should've guessed. I suppose that's one way of stopping me from drinking myself into a stupor tonight."

"Yup! And here's the second thing I can do for you: I can tell you that the things I've done in the past have been much worse than simply accidentally causing a death. I won't go into detail, but let's just say even the Kou Empire's most brutal warriors and heartless politicians would think I'd gone way overboard."

"You!? But… how did you forgive yourself? How have you found the strength to live so happily?"

"Because I met Xuanzang," replied Wukong simply. "I still regret the bad things I did, but I know that it's better to move on and not be that person anymore. And you only did one bad thing, so it'll be easy for you."

The Monkey King jumped on top of Abasi's head and crouched down while the giant rolled his eyes up to try and see him. "Do you think so?"

"I know so. But you'll never forgive yourself and move on by yourself. Find a Xuanzang of your own; maybe it'll be a girl, maybe it'll be a kid, maybe it'll be an old man, or maybe it'll be a frog. But find someone. And don't get discouraged if it takes a while to find your Xuanzang. Just be the nice, witty, honourable person you are and you'll find the person."

"I-I see," Abasi replied, "Yeah… I'll find someone to help lift this burden off me. And I won't touch another drop of alcohol until I find this person!"

"That's the spirit!" cried Wukong, jumping down and giving him a smile. "I know someone you could start with. He might not be your Xuanzang, but he might set you in the right direction. Go to king Sinbad when he returns, if you can, and have him direct you towards a young boy with blue, braided hair. His name's Aladdin, and he's a magi with a knack for helping people. If you run into any problems with either of them, just mention Sun Wukong and hopefully they'll trust you to not be an enemy. But Aladdin's friendly by default, so you shouldn't have a problem."

"Yes! I'll do that, thank you! Now please, let me go see my 'boss' and see if I can convince him to work out a new contract."

"Go right ahead," Wukong said, "Just remember to never give up."

"I will," replied Abasi, and with that he was out the door and out the inn itself within minutes.

Shortly afterwards Wukong jumped out the window and down to the street and moved to find and meet back up with his friends. To his surprise they were actually on the way to the inn, apparently having discovered for themselves where Abasi and Budel were staying. All this they explained to him after he ran into them just down the street from the hotel. "So," Jamal began once their short explanation was finished, "We got bread, water and some fruit. Are we good to go now?"

The two handed Wukong the burlap sacks they held, while the canteens they hung around their necks, and the Monkey King quickly pocketed the supplies in his satchel. "How did things go with Budel and Abasi?" Nada asked.

"Quite good. I gave Abasi some encouragement to stop with the alcohol and I hung Budel up on a post to think about how much of a jerk he is," Wukong summarized briefly. "Come on, I'll tell you the whole story once we're flying."

Wukong summoned his cloud and all three hopped on, at which point he flew them up and away from Sindria and continued on their journey westward. 'Good luck Abasi,' Wukong thought, looking back briefly, 'Until next time.'


End file.
